Angel
by imag1ne
Summary: Jarod is determined to help her. JMPR
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me nor am I making money from this story. My muse just wanted to play with Jarod and Miss Parker for a while.

A/N This will be no longer than three chapters and I will post the next one as soon as I can - assuming you want this story to continue.

**Angel  
**by imagine

_**Part 1: The Night**_

The light was dim and, despite the low hum of an air conditioner, a layer of smoke floated just below the ceiling. Jarod cleared the musty air from his lungs with a quick cough, as he entered, then scanned the Thursday night crowd of the corner establishment..

Some of the patrons were gathered around the pool table, and a few were near the dart board. The majority, however, were sitting or standing dangerously close to each other at the shadowed booths and tables. Though their personal conduct was unimportant to him, his dark eyes flicked from face to face until he spotted her sitting alone, in a booth at the back of the room. Relief made his muscles relax but the thought of her reaction to him interrupting her grief, made them tense again.

Miss Parker swallowed the last of her drink and slid the empty glass to the side. She made brief eye contact with one of the clean shaven young men playing darts then dropped her head to her hands. Strands of dark hair spilled over her fingers, hiding her eyes from view as her shoulders began to tremble. She called for another drink without ever lifting her head and, though the bartender never looked in her direction, Jarod saw the man reach for a bottle of Scotch and a clean glass.

"The lady has had enough alcohol for one night," he said quietly, placing his hand on the other man's arm. "She'll have coffee. Make it strong and black."

The bartender looked up, curiously sizing up the Pretender for a moment before saying, "She said wanted Scotch."

"I'll pay for them both, just give me the coffee," Jarod insisted, using his darkest voice. "Now."

A small smirk emerged on the bartender's face as he nodded toward the brunette and reached for the coffee pot. "Looks like you're too late, Pal. The lady has found a companion for the night."

Jarod turned as Miss Parker rose from her seat. The young man who, moments before, had been standing at the dartboard, was at her side. Sliding her arm through his, she started across the room, her confidence faltering at the sight of her childhood friend. When he took an expectant step toward her, though, the brunette shifted her gaze to the exit. Even as she passed him, her shoulder lightly brushing against his arm, Miss Parker refused to acknowledge Jarod's presence.

"Tough break. But, Jimmy has been workin' on her for the past hour, so it's only right," the man said, his voice now carrying an amused tone. "That'll be five and a quarter for the Scotch. The coffee's on the house, if you still want it."

Without looking at the man, Jarod threw the money on the bar and followed Miss Parker and her companion out the door.

* * *

This was not the way the night was supposed to end, she thought, but it was better than it not ending at all. If she played her cards right, she would wake up in the next morning with only the vaguest idea of the things she'd been told and the things she'd done. And, if she were really lucky, the Scotch-induced numbness that was beginning to overtake her would continue until after the body was in its grave.

Sliding into the driver's seat of her Porsche, she smiled at her young escort when he closed the door for her. When he returned the grin and leaned in for a kiss, though, the woman looked away. Twisting the key, she brought the engine to life and looked up at him.

"Save it," she said, gunning the engine. "We'll have plenty of time for that, and much more, at my house. We have all night."

His grin dropped only slightly as he tilted his head to the side and stared at her. "All night? You've already decided you want me to spend the night?"

"What's the matter? Too much pressure?"

"No," he replied, a little too quickly, "of course not."

"If you're not going to be up for it, tell me now. I'm sure I can find someone else."

Her tone made him back away from the car. While she watched, the man's stance straightened and the arrogant persona he had shown her in the bar returned. "Don't you worry, Angel, I'm up for it. I'll take you places . . ."

"Do **_not_** call me that," she hissed. Her eyes flashed with a fury he had not been expecting. "I am not your Angel. Understand?"

Tentatively, the man nodded, his dark eyes suddenly unsure. "Sure. Anything you say."

"Good." Softening her tone and expression at once, she added, "I will see you in a few minutes."

The car was barely out of the parking space when Jarod appeared outside the bar. His eyes darted in both directions before spotting her car coming toward him. Without hesitation, the Pretender stepped into the street, waving his arms. Instantly, she moved her foot from the gas pedal but, before she could touch the brake, his body slapped the side of the car. Jarod stumbled then came to a breathless and abrupt halt in the middle of the black pavement.

"Parker, stop!"

Bent over, cradling his left arm against his chest, his head was high and his dark eyes seemed to shine an eerie red in the glare of the streetlight. Though she slowed, at first, she did not pull over. When he called to her again, and started toward her, Miss Parker accelerated.

It wasn't until the street curved, and his image was no longer visible in the rear view mirror, that she turned her eyes to the road.

* * *

Jarod watched the Porsche disappear, followed closely by Jimmy's Mustang convertible. The whine of the engines were still echoing when he spun on his heel and sprinted to where his Jeep was parked.

His brain told him he was taking unnecessary risks. He needed to leave town before Lyle or Raines discovered his presence. He could call her in a few days to offer his condolences. She had Sydney, Broots, Debbie and, for what he was worth, Jimmy, to offer her comfort. She didn't need him. She didn't want him.

Jarod stepped on the clutch and shifted into the next gear, the muscles in his jaw tightening to the point his teeth hurt. Her voice was echoing in his head, telling him - screaming at him - that he shouldn't underestimate her. She could take care of herself. She was a Parker. And, yet, as he headed toward the highway, the Pretender knew he would be unable to follow through with what his mind was dictating.

* * *

She stepped over the threshold and went directly to the liquor cabinet at the far end of the room. Retrieving the bottle of Scotch from the top shelf, she filled a tumbler and took a long swallow before turning to face her guest.

"I have Scotch, Gin and Vodka," she told him, refilling her glass. "What do you want?"

His eyes scanning the room as he entered, the young man brought his gaze on the brunette. "Gin and tonic. No ice. No lime."

She nodded and turned away to prepare the drink when he moved behind her. His arms slipping around her waist and his mouth softly caressing her neck, the man murmured that she was beautiful.

Suppressing the laugh that threatened to ruin her plans, Miss Parker set both drinks on the cabinet and turned in his arms.

"Don't talk." Then, without another word, she pulled his mouth to hers.

* * *

"_How is Miss Parker?"_

_Sydney sighed. "Not well, I am afraid. No one has spoken to her since the viewing of the body."_

_Jarod pushed the phone closer to his ear and leaned forward. If what he was saying was true, Miss Parker had been incommunicado for more than twenty-four hours. _

"_She just disappeared?"_

"_She said she was going home, and did not want to be bothered. She's grieving, Jarod."_

_Standing, Jarod massaged the back of his neck as he imagined his childhood friend's reaction to the death. "Why didn't mourn this way, the way we expected, years ago, Sydney? Unless she knew he . . .."_

"_I do not think Miss Parker would approve of me discussing her life . . ."_

"_With me," the Pretender finished. _

"_With anyone," the man corrected, sternly. "This is a very difficult and confusing time for her, Jarod."_

"_I understand, Sydney." Sitting back in the chair, he stared out the window at the nearby lake and, after a moment, added, "I will call you when I know she is safe."_

_Then, before the older man could comment, Jarod disconnected the call._

* * *

He pulled up to the house and stared at the curtained windows considering his next move. Both cars were in the driveway and, except for the lights in the living room, the house was dark.

He did not need to be a Pretender to visualize the activities taking place inside, but the fact that he was, made the visions much more vivid than he liked. There were certain things in life that he did not want to picture. Parker in the throes of passion with another man was at the top of the list.

Just as he banished the images of her in a state of undress, Jarod was taunted with Jimmy's voice, murmuring things to Parker that neither of them would remember in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, he scowled and silently chastised himself to take control. If he had any hope of doing what he'd come to do, it was important that he find a way to block the unintentional simulations. Taking a deep breath, Jarod leaned back in the seat of his Jeep and stared at the stars. Using a technique he'd taught himself as a child, he concentrated his efforts on calculating the distance to the brightest point in the sky. Less than a minute later, the images, and Jimmy's voice evaporated.

Sitting forward in the seat, he stared at the house. As much as he wanted to blame Parker's guest for what was happening, Jarod knew that the brunette was not only a willing participant, she had orchestrated the event. He also knew that if he bullied his way inside and put an end to her evening, she would finally carry through on her decade long threat. She would shoot him.

Besides the fact that invading her privacy, in this manner, bothered him immensely, he was troubled by the woman's actions. The Parker who proved herself by trolling bars for one-night stands had been gone for years. Even after Thomas' death, the most emotionally taxing time of Parker's life, she had not reverted to the lifestyle of her insecure youth. The fact that she had returned now, concerned Jarod a great deal.

If he'd had any indication that her decisions were being made with a sound mind, that her actions were not being made due to grief, anger and frustration, he would have left her alone. At least, that's what he told himself.

Absently, he rubbed his sore arm, then reached for his cell phone. With his eyes trained on the house, he punched out the sequence of numbers without hesitation.

* * *

She was on top of him, her hands pulling at his shirt while her teeth scraped at his skin. When the phone rang, he raised his head toward the offending device only to have her force him back to the sofa.

"The machine will get it," she muttered breathlessly.

He nodded, his eyes trained on her fingers as they manipulated the buckle of his belt. She pulled at the snap on his pants as the machine picked up, only to record dial tone. Grabbing her by the arms, he moved quickly, pushing her to her back and bringing her legs around his waist.

Unzipping his jeans, he slid them over his hips as the phone began ringing a second time. He felt her body tense beneath him, but, when she told him to ignore it, the man nodded and brought his mouth to hers. The phone stopped before the answering machine was activated but, a second later, as Jimmy slipped his hands under her skirt, the ringing broke his concentration again.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," he growled, untangling his body from hers. Grabbing the phone from its base on the nearby desk, he dropped it onto her chest and rolled off of her. "Answer it already, will you?"

* * *

"Tell him to leave."

Parker hesitated at the sound of the dark voice, then slid her legs over the side of the sofa and sat up. "What?"

"You heard me, Parker. Tell him to leave. Now."

"I will do no such thing." She glanced at Jimmy as he rose from his seat at the edge of the sofa and moved toward the bathroom. "He's staying."

"I know you're upset but you can get through all of this without him. This kind of behavior . . ."

Abruptly, she disconnected the call.

"How dare you pass judgement on me," she hissed, when the phone rang back ten seconds later. "If you don't like the way I'm running my life, too damn bad. You don't have the right to try and fix it, Jarod. I'm not one of your precious pretends. My life does not concern you."

"That's where you're wrong," he shot back. "We've known for years that your life and mine are connected. We're connected by Ethan, the scrolls, and, heaven help us, even the Centre. We have always been more than huntress and prey, Parker, whether you want to admit it, or not."

Pulling the blanket from the back of the sofa around her shoulders, she increased her grip on the telephone and turned her eyes on the mantle clock. Twelve twenty. The night was progressing and things were not going as planned.

"None of that gives you the right to tell me what to do. I'm well over the age of consent," she said as she stood and moved to the liquor cabinet. Lifting the drink she'd abandoned a few minutes before, she brought it to her lips while proclaiming, "I will do what - and who - I want, whenever I want, Jarod. There's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"I'll pull him out of your bed myself, if I have to."

"Try it and die."

Taking a deep breath, Jarod released it slowly before finding a calmer tone. "He doesn't belong there, with you, Parker. Not tonight. He doesn't know what you're going through. He doesn't know . . ."

"He doesn't need to know. I didn't bring him here to listen to the story of my life. He's here for one very specific reason and, until he's finished, Jeremy isn't going anywhere."

"Jimmy," he sighed.

"What?"

"His name is Jimmy, not Jeremy."

"Whatever," she snapped. "The point is that the only person who doesn't belong is you. Go save someone else, Jarod, and leave me alone."

* * *

After unplugging the phone, she took her guest by the hand and led him to the bedroom. They stopped at the foot of the stairs long enough for him to gently slide her blouse off her body. He gasped at the sight and then slowly began to trace the lace that adorned her. She allowed the touch for only a moment before drawing away. Playfully, but firmly grabbing the collar of his open shirt, she guided him up the rest of the stairs.

They had just stepped onto the landing, when the doorbell rang. Before she had time to pull away from her companion, she heard the front door bang open and Jarod's voice calling her name. Leaving Jimmy where he was, she descended the steps in rapid succession, muttering, "I'll kill him. That son of a . . ."

"I warned you," he growled, pushing past her. Then, looking up at the man still standing at the top of the steps, he pointed toward the door and ordered, "Get out. Now."

"Don't you move," she countered, glaring at her guest. Grabbing Jarod by the arm, she pulled him into the living room. "How dare you! What the hell are you thinking?"

"I should be asking you that question," he snapped, shooting another threatening look at the man on the stairs. When he brought his eyes back on her, he took in her appearance. Despite the warmth he felt beginning to spread, he shook his head in disgust, picked up the blouse that had been left in a pile at the foot of the steps and he threw it at her.

"You're an adult, free to do as you please but you're not thinking straight. Getting drunk so you can allow yourself to let some stranger into your bed is not the most intelligent thing you've ever done, Parker. Any other night, I would have left you alone with the consequences. I don't like to interfere in your life but . . ."

"Right. Just like you weren't interfering when you manipulated me into a relationship with Thomas," she snarled as she slid into the blouse. "Look how well THAT turned out."

The carpenter's name startled him more than she anticipated. His eyes widened and the color seemed to drain from his face. Immediately, Miss Parker regretted her words.

Forcing a softer tone, she rubbed her eyes and ignored the slight trembling of her voice as she asked, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I know you better than anyone."

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Jimmy as the man came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Though he had been prepared to use physical force to evict the stranger from Parker's home, he was grateful that, at least for the moment, Jimmy's behavior was not forcing him to do so. The man had remained amazingly calm, since Jarod's intrusion but, now, Jarod sensed the man had something to say about the drama unfolding before him.

"I think it's time for me to go."

With his shirt still hanging open, he moved across the room. Though his pants were zipped and snapped, the belt fell limp at his sides. "This is not how I expected the night to end but, hell, I know when to cut my losses."

"Jeremy, no, don't . . ."

"The name is Jimmy," he corrected gently. Glancing up at Jarod, who stood protectively behind the woman, he added, "And, I'm afraid I have already over stayed my welcome. Three's a crowd, and all that. I can't say I'm not disappointed, though. We could have had a lot of fun."

"You don't have to leave."

"Of course I do. I'm not good at listening to other people's personal stuff."

Moving to his right, he reached for the Gin and Tonic that was still sitting on the cabinet and downed it in one swallow. Sliding the glass back into place, he crossed to the door, purposely shoving Jarod with his shoulder as he passed the man. Though the Pretender's hands curled into fists, he did nothing to retaliate.

She followed the man to the door, intent on making him change his mind. When they reached the threshold, she took hold of his arm and, without missing a beat, Jimmy turned and softly kissed her on the lips.

"Thanks for the drink," he murmured, with a smile. Then, before she could say a word, he crossed the porch and disappeared into the darkness.

Jarod waited a moment, watching the brunette as she watched Jimmy disappear into the night. Leaning heavily on the door, she slowly swung it closed but did not engage the security chain.

"I know you're hurting more tonight than you have in a long time and I'm sorry," Jarod said, bringing her attention back on him. She turned and stared at him, as if she were having difficulty comprehending his words. "I know that tomorrow, as he's lowered into the ground, you're going to suppress your emotions so you don't appear weak in front of Raines and the others. I can't change that fact, nor can I blame you. All I can do is stop you from ignoring your feelings tonight. You need to grieve."

Her blue eyes searched his face for some sign of a trick. Then, with a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "Why do you care? You told me, over and over, how horrible he was and . . ."

"All I ever wanted was for you to stop blindly accepting everything he told you."

"He was my father, Jarod. That means something."

"Yes, I know it does," he answered.

"Then why did you do it? Why did you take such pleasure in tearing down my image of him? Why did you try so hard to make me see him as a monster?"

The Pretender swallowed hard. His dark eyes did not waver from hers but she saw them soften as he searched for an explanation. As she watched, he was transforming from the arrogant man she'd made a living chasing to the insecure boy she'd known as a child and the sight was far from comforting. Still, despite her uneasiness, she forced herself to say the words that would wound him even more.

"Did you do it because you hated him?" Determined to keep her voice from breaking, she did not raise it above a whisper. "Or, was it because you hated me?"

"No." Shaking his head, he took her hands and, in a moist voice, told her, "I may not have liked the things you've done but I have never hated you, Parker."

Slowly, but deliberately, Miss Parker pulled out of Jarod's gentle grasp and turned her back on him.

"As a boy, the only person who frightened me more than your father was Raines," he admitted, softly. "But, unlike Dr. Billy, your father always seemed to have a gentle quality when you were around. The few times I saw him with you - with his Angel - he seemed less intimidating."

She stiffened at the nickname but did not face him.

"I can't tell you how many times I conjured those images to calm myself after interacting with him. Those sparse images reminded me that he had a good side," he told her. "I saw the other side of him. I wanted you to do the same. I wanted you to see, to understand, the pain he'd caused over the years."

"Well, the man who stole your life and caused you so much pain is gone, Jarod," she said tightly. "Knowing that he's dead and that, by this time tomorrow, will be six feet under must make you a very happy man."

"There is nothing about this situation that makes me happy."

"Oh, spare me!" Pivoting in place, she glared at him. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here, Jarod? The only time you come to my home is when you've uncovered some deep dark secret about my family. So, what bit of 'truth' do you need to bring to light before the funeral? What do you need me to know?"

He tensed, straightening his stance as he stared down at her. She held his gaze, daring him to say something. Her blue eyes were no longer filled with fire, as they had been a few minutes before. Instead, they were hard and, Jarod thought, dead.

"He loved you."

"What?"

"Your father loved you."

He saw the tears begin to melt the harshness in her gaze and he reached out to her. Then, without warning, she slapped him with an open hand. The force of the blow was enough to make him take a step back but Jarod managed to resist the urge to touch the abused spot on his cheek.

"Get out," she ordered.

"Parker, listen to me. I am not . . ."

"Get out," she repeated, pulling open the door. "Get out or, so help me, I will call the Centre and have a team of Sweepers carry you out."

Her words were not harsh, or angry. They were spoken in a calm, controlled voice that made Jarod's insides twist. He took a deep breath, released it quickly and moved from the door into the living room. Becoming more angry and frustrated by the second, she spent only a few seconds trying to gain control of her emotions before slamming the door and following him.

"Jarod, where are you?" she hissed, as she stepped into the empty room. "So help me, if you . . ."

"I'm right here," he replied. Rising from his knees behind her desk, he picked up the phone and brought it to his ear before handing the device to Miss Parker. "You have dial tone, again. Do whatever you feel you need to do. I'll be in the kitchen making you something to eat."

* * *

_She felt Lyle's eyes on her as she stared at the body but did not have the strength to bring her eyes to his. Nor did she have the inclination. At that moment, all she could think about was the man laid out in the bronze and gold casket._

"_My condolences, Miss Parker."_

_Nodding at the familiar voice, she still did not take her eyes from the casket. Sydney would understand._

"_Yeah, um, I'm sorry, too. If there is anything Debbie or I can do to help, let me know."_

_She looked up, her eyes moving slowly from one man to the next. In her mind, there were a hundred things she wanted to say but the words wouldn't come. She wanted to thank them for coming. She wanted to tell them that it was her fault he was dead. She had known he was alive and failed to protect him, but the words wouldn't come. _

_Instead, Miss Parker silently turned away from the men and, without looking back, exited the morgue._

* * *

He found her in her bedroom, sitting with her knees to her chest on the window seat, staring into the night. She had changed into black cotton yoga pants, a white T-shirt and white cotton ankle socks. Her face was scrubbed, her hair was pulled back from her face and Jarod found himself mesmerized.

"What do you want?"

Startled from his thoughts, he released a quick breath, plastered a silly grin on his face and leaned against the door frame. "I'm getting ready to put the eggs on and I was wondering how many sweepers you invited for breakfast. I wouldn't want any of them to leave hungry."

When she did not respond, Jarod sighed and moved further into the room. He didn't need her to tell him that she had not made the call. If there had been the slightest chance she would have turned him in, he would never have taunted her by giving her the phone.

"I brought you some tea," he said, in a much less antagonistic tone. Sliding the mug onto the windowsill, he hesitated then, without taking his eyes off of her, murmured, "You'll feel better if you eat something. Why don't you come downstairs and I'll . . .?"

"I'm not hungry."

Jarod shook his head and sat on the edge of the King sized bed. "You can't keep everything bottled up inside, Parker. It's not healthy."

She let out a soft,strangled laugh but said nothing.

"When you were a child, you used to visit me when you were upset," he reminded her, "You used to trust me with your thoughts. We used to talk."

Miss Parker tightened the grip she had on her legs and pulled her knees under her chin. She let her eyes shift their focus from the dark street to the reflection of the man behind her.

"That was a long time ago, Jarod."

"It doesn't feel like it," he murmured. "It feels like yesterday."

"No," she growled. Sliding from the window seat, she began to pace the room. "**_Yesterday,_** I was in the Centre morgue, viewing my father's body. **_Yesterday,_** I listened to Raines try to convince me that _Mr. Parker_ would be missed at the Centre but that he was in a better place. **_Yesterday,_** I sat in my car and screamed at the top of my lungs until my throat was raw. I am quite sure that you and I did not talk yesterday, Jarod."

When she stopped her tirade, Miss Parker was staring at him from across the room, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest.

"I'm sorry."

Her stance faltered for a moment and she shook her head, trying to fight the fatigue that was beginning to overcome her.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, rising to his feet. "Losing someone you love is not easy, Parker, especially when you feel you have no one sharing your grief."

His hand slid to her arm but she shirked it away and took a step back. "I don't want your pity, Jarod."

"Do you remember what you told me about your father, when we were children?" he asked, as she moved back to the window seat and lowered herself to the cushions. "You told me, more than once, that he wanted what was best for you."

Unsure of how her voice would sound, if she spoke, Miss Parker nodded her response.

"You were right. I believe your father did want what was best for you," he whispered, taking another step closer.

"Fantastic. I'll sleep better knowing you agree with me," she muttered. Facing him, she leaned forward on the seat and laid her elbows on her knees. "Now, will you leave me alone?"

"Above everything, he wanted you safe," Jarod continued, ignoring her plea. "But, because you were his little girl, his Angel, he had a preconceived notion of the type of woman you had become. He never saw how strong and capable you are, Parker. He thought he needed to lie to you to keep you safe. When your father jumped out of the airplane with the scrolls, I saw the look on his face, Parker. I heard what he told you. "

"You're not going to leave this alone, are you?" she sighed, raising her eyes to him. "My father jumped out of the airplane years ago, Jarod. If you really thought I needed to know all this, why didn't you tell me then?"

"Because, you did all the right things - took time off work, insisted on search and rescue missions, then reluctantly allowed memorial services and allowed a few tears at the ceremony. You had me fooled, Parker. I thought you were really mourning him, but you weren't, were you?"

She looked at him and sat back in the seat. With her arms crossed in front of her, she stared at the man.

"When Kyle died . . ."

"This is not the same thing."

He stared at her a moment then nodded and, in a soft voice, told her, "I thought my brother died in that van explosion. I grieved for him every day and I relived his death more times than I care to admit. I was convinced that I had failed him, that I should have been able to save us both. When he came back into my life, it was like a miracle - the happiest day of my life. My brother was alive and, suddenly, the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. I swore I would keep him safe."

His voice cracked and, as his head bowed, his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She watched him, knowing that the memory was overtaking him and, suddenly concerned, Miss Parker rose to her feet. After Kyle died, she knew Jarod had found refuge in a monastery and, until this moment, had never questioned whether he had come to terms with his brother's death.

"In the end, it was Kyle who saved me, though, wasn't it?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers as he forced a somber smile. "And, as a reward for being such a wonderful big brother, I got to watch him die again - only, this time, he was in my arms and there was no denying the fact it was real."

"Jarod . . ."

He shook his head. "No, you're right, Parker. Our situations are much different, aren't they?"

She nodded.

"They're different because, although you watched your father jump out of an airplane, you've always known he was alive. Haven't you? The voices told you."

The fact that she heard no accusation in his question made her respond with a soft, "Yes."

He took a deep breath and straightened his stance. When she turned away, he reached out and laid a gentle hand on her arm, then moved to her side.

"Parker, you have to mourn for him. If you don't, you will never heal."

She looked at him, surprised to hear the tenderness in his voice and, heard herself say, "I don't deserve to heal. You don't understand, Jarod. I killed him."

"No. Your father's death was not the result of something you did - or did not - do, Parker."

Slowly, her hands slid across her body to the opposite shoulder, her chin dropped to her chest and, suddenly, Jarod realized she was hugging herself.

"You are not responsible for his death," he insisted in a calm, low voice. Stepping in front of her, he touched his fingers below the woman's chin and brought her eyes to his. "You were his reason for living."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you - of all people - trying so hard to comfort me?"

"Why shouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?"

"We used to be," she nodded, slowly circling him. "But, that friendship died years ago. In case you've forgotten, we've been locked in an extreme game of you-run-I-chase and we're in triple overtime. I've done everything imaginable to bring you back to the Centre."

"If you'd done everything," he grinned, "I would be in a cage on SL-27 right now."

"This isn't a joke," she hissed. "You and I have not been friends for a very long time, Jarod, and you have _never _tried to hide the fact that you hated my father. So, what's your angle? Why are you here, tonight? And, for once in your life, stop playing mind games and tell me the truth."

"I've already told you my reasons, Parker. Weren't you listening? I'm here because I know what you're feeling and I know, from experience, how devastating a feeling it is."

"So, you're trying to protect me? Is that it?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I am here to stop you from doing such a good job at protecting yourself."

"What?"

"You need to stop trying to shield yourself from the pain. It doesn't work," he promised. "Eventually the grief catches up with you, Parker. The longer you put it off, the more debilitating it will be when it finally breaks through your barriers."

"So, this is payback for all those years I spent trying to bring you back to the Centre," she sighed, wiping her eyes. Tiredly dropping to the edge of the bed, she raked her fingers through her hair and murmured, "You want to be the one who makes me fall apart."

"No," he whispered. Sitting beside her, Jarod slid his arms around the woman's shoulders and brought her to his chest. "I want to be the one who catches you."

TBC

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer in part 1

**Angel**  
by imagine

_**Part 2 - The Dawn**_

The muscles in her body tensed at his touch, then slowly melted against his body. Though her arms slid around his waist and her shoulders trembled, Miss Parker's tears were still unable to find a release. Opting to keep the cliched words of comfort to himself, Jarod lightly kissed the top of her head as he gently cradled her in his arms.

She allowed him to hold her for much longer than he expected and, when Miss Parker finally drew out of his touch, Jarod's arms ached to bring her back to him. He watched quietly as she wiped her face with both hands and moved from the bed.

"Parker, it's all right to cry. It has been days since you were told of your father's death and you have yet to shed a tear. He's being buried tomorrow. If you continue to suppress your emotions, they will . . ."

"Stop it!" she barked, pivoting to face him. "Just stop it, Jarod. He was my father and I am a grown woman. None of this is your problem, or your business. I do not need you to critique the way I choose to grieve."

"The problem is that you are _not _grieving."

"That's where you're wrong, Genius. In case you've forgotten, I've done this before."

Bringing the heel of her hand to her forehead, she took a shuddered breath. He waited, watching her with concern as she composed herself.

"I know you have," he said quietly.

She dropped her arms and looked at him. "Thomas and my mother both died so suddenly I had no time to do anything but react. I mourned for them, Jarod. I cried continually for weeks and it never made their deaths easier to accept. All it did was threaten to destroy me."

Jarod swallowed hard, remembering that both deaths were violent and carried out while she was nearby. Before he could stop it, the image of her as a child, screaming for her mother, slipped into his mind. Quickly following was the image of her at Thomas' grave, her shock and fatigue evident in every movement and every word.

"You may think that your grief was destroying you," he told her, keeping his voice gentle, "but, in actuality, it was making you stronger. It was the healthy reaction and it helped you to move on. I do not understand why your father's death is so different for you."

When Miss Parker spoke again, her voice was so soft it was barely audible, "With my father, I knew it was going to happen. The voices warned me. They told me he was going to die and then told me I couldn't stop it."

He frowned and considered her words, silently chastising himself for pushing her so hard, then said, "But you tried to save him, anyway."

"He was my father, of course I tried," she replied, tiredly. "I knew he was living somewhere in the Canary Islands. Last month, I told Raines that I was following a lead on you and booked a commercial flight to Spain. From there, I made a connection to the islands."

"Wasn't Raines suspicious about the fact you thought I had traveled outside the US?"

"Of course he was, but it's not like you've never done it before. Besides, I had Sydney and Broots to back me up."

Jarod frowned. "Sydney knew you were looking for your father?"

"No. He and Broots both asked what I was searching for, but I never told them. They backed me up for no other reason than I asked." Glancing at the Pretender over her shoulder, she added, "They trusted me."

Jarod took a deep breath and nodded, but did not comment.

Satisfied with his silence, the woman moved to the window and stared out at the deserted street.

"I hired a guide and searched for my father for almost three weeks. I would have kept looking but Raines was making life miserable for everyone here, so I came home. I had every intention of leaving again, and continuing the search, but . . ."

"He died before you got the chance," Jarod finished, when her voice faded.

She nodded and wiped her eyes again, adding, "Strange, isn't it? I've tracked you down hundreds of times but I failed to find my own father when he needed me."

"You didn't fail. Your father went to great pains to make sure no one could find him, Parker."

She glanced at him, but said nothing. Instead, Miss Parker crossed to the dresser on the other side of the room and picked up a framed photo. When he looked over her shoulder, he told her, "I've never seen that picture before."

"I've never shown it to anyone," she murmured. "Until recently, it was tucked in an album and stored in a box at the top of my closet. I actually forgot it existed."

"Where was it taken?"

"There's a cove about twenty minutes North of here. The only time I was there was the morning this picture was taken."

He nodded. "The sunrise."

She looked at him, curiously. "I told you?"

"You were very excited about seeing it and wanted to share it with me."

Glancing at the picture, she took a breath and nodded slightly as she brought her eyes back to his. "I remember, now. You let me go on and on about the colors and the breeze and . . . I'm sorry. At the time, I didn't realize how difficult it must have been for you."

"It wasn't difficult at all," he promised. Shooting her a sincere lopsided grin, he added, "You made me feel like I saw it with you. Believe it, or not, Parker, but you gave me my first sunrise and, to date, I have not found one quite as beautiful."

The tears in her eyes suddenly welled and, determined not to let them fall, she wiped her face again and looked away from him. Even if she trusted her voice, she realized she could think of nothing to say in response.

"My mother told me, later, that taking a family photo during sunrise was my father's idea," she managed, dropping her eyes back to the photo. She gently traced the faces of her parents with her ringed finger as she spoke. "I think that night was the only time in my life that I was truly happy."

"And your father made it happen."

When she nodded, Jarod saw her expression tighten and twist as she fought her emotions.

"Parker, it's all right," he promised, softly. "It's all right that you relive the happy times with your family. I know it hurts, now, but it's part of the process. It will get better."

She placed the picture back on the dresser and buried her face in her hands.

"No, it will never get better, Jarod. My father died alone because I couldn't find him in time," she replied in a gravely voice. "And, at ten o'clock this morning, I'm going to have to watch them lower him into the ground."

Impulsively, Jarod slid his arm around her. "You are not to blame for what happened, Miss Parker. Your father made the choice to die alone when he jumped from that plane. Besides, he died from a heart attack. There was nothing you could have done, even if you had found him."

She shook her head and slipped out of his hold. "You don't believe the heart attack story any more than I do, Jarod, so don't pretend otherwise."

In all honesty, he had believed the report of how her father had died without any investigation. Now, that he watched her face beginning to distort with grief, he wondered how he could have done such a thing. She needed closure. She deserved the truth.

"How long had you known he was in the Canary Islands?" he asked, quietly.

"Since we returned from Morocco, after the plane crash. I just never had the courage to look for him," she answered softly. "I was afraid that either the Centre would follow me, and I would put him in more danger, or that he'd disappear again."

"I wish I had known," he said, more to himself, than to her. "I would have helped you. Maybe, between the two of us . . ."

"Maybe," she said, interrupting his thought. Her voice was heavy as she pushed past him, toward the door, "I really can't talk about this anymore."

"Parker . . ."

"Jarod, no, you don't understand," she insisted, twisting out of his grasp. Miss Parker looked up at him and, in a tone reserved for threats, said, "I know you want me to cry. I know you think that it's what's best to me but you're wrong. If I start now, I am never going to stop. I will have a complete breakdown."

"I won't let that happen. I'll help you."

"There's nothing you could do. I have to get out of this house."

"That is not a good idea."

"Maybe not for you, but I am not on the Centre's Most Wanted list," she spat, continuing across the room.

"Are you sure about that?"

She stopped abruptly at the door and he regretted his words. Her hands curled into fists at her side but she did not turn her body toward him. Instead, she glared at him over her shoulder.

"I am not in the mood for more of your innuendo or your sanctimonious observations, Jarod, so don't start. It's been a hell of a long week and I'm too tired to fight anymore."

"I don't want to fight, either. I just think it would be better if you stayed home. You need to rest. You need to close your eyes and . . ."

"You really don't get it, do you? I don't want to sleep. If I close my eyes, I see things I don't want to see. I see him standing at the door of the airplane, his arms filled with the scrolls. I see him on a slab in the morgue. I see him being lowered into a grave." Slowly, she shifted her entire body toward him. Her voice trembled with each word but her glistening eyes never left his wide brown orbs. "I planned this entire evening so that I wouldn't be able to think of any of those things, Jarod. Thanks to you, my plans walked out the front door about an hour ago."

"I won't apologize for interrupting your plans with Jimmy. You . . ."

"Of course you won't," she hissed. "You never do, but that's not the point. You're supposed to be a genius and, minutes ago, you claimed to be my friend. Why can't you see that I not only _want_ a distraction, I _need _one?"

When he was silent, she shook her head in frustration. Grabbing a pair of running shoes as she moved from the room, she took the stairs at a rapid pace and headed for the front door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, following her into the living room.

Dropping the shoes, she slid into them and quickly tied the laces. "If you must know, I'm going for a run. Alone."

"Parker, it's almost two in the morning."

"Yes, I know," she whispered, pulling open the door. "I still have more than eight hours until this nightmare can even begin to be over. If you really want to help me, Jarod, don't be here when I get back."

* * *

Though his sleep was far from restful, it was the hand that pressed over his mouth that woke Sydney. His eyes widened and, in the dark, his arms struck out toward the intruder.

"Sydney, it's okay. It's me."

He felt the gentle touch on his hand, and recognized the voice, but until the Pretender's hand slid from his mouth, the psychiatrist was unable to calm himself. The shadowed figure beside him began to take form and, in a span of half a dozen heart beats, Sydney found his voice.

"Jarod? Jarod, what are you doing here? What time is it?"

"It's two thirty," the younger man replied absently. "Sydney, I need your help. Miss Parker needs your help."

"Miss Parker?" Sydney shifted on the mattress so that he was in a sitting position. More than anything, he wanted to see the younger man's face, but knew better than to reach for the light. It was best, for Jarod's safety, if the room remained dark. "Is she hurt?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. I need to find her father's personal effects, specifically the items that were found at his home in the Canary Islands. Where are they being stored?"

He frowned and, even in the dim light, Jarod saw his mentor's disapproval.

"Sydney, this is important. Please. Just tell me."

"Not until you tell me why."

"I've thought about it and there must be something in his things that relates to her. She needs to know what kind of life he was living without her and why he stayed away. She needs to know the truth about how he died."

Sydney gingerly slid from the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jarod stand, prepared to follow if he left the room. Without facing his protégé, he asked, "Did she send you here?"

"You know better than to ask that question," Jarod replied. "Miss Parker would never ask me for a favor, especially one this personal."

"Then why are you doing it?"

He stared at his mentor, dumbfounded.

"I know you are trying to help, Jarod," he said, when the younger man was silent. Turning in his spot, he met the dark eyes he'd grown so fond of and added, "But, you need to be cautious. Staying in town, this way, puts you at greater risk for capture. Just because they are burying one of their own, does not mean the Centre will not come after you."

"I know what I am doing and I know the risk I am taking," he promised, curtly. "What I _don't_ know, is where Mr. Parker's personal effects are being stored. Tell me."

* * *

She returned to the house to find he had done exactly as she'd asked. He was gone. In the kitchen, she found a fresh pot of coffee and a note explaining that he'd left a plate in the oven and a bowl of fruit in the refrigerator.

_I'm sorry, Miss Parker. I never intended to make things more difficult for you._

The mantle clock in the living room struck three as she slid the warmed plate of eggs and chilled bowl of fruit to the counter. Deciding against the eggs, she left them where they were. She poured herself a cup of the coffee she was sure was decaf and sat at the table with the fruit.

From the moment she'd been told of her father's death, and was shown the body, Miss Parker had made a point of staying out of silence. She'd gone to the gym, the firing range, and finally, to the bar. At home, she'd had Jimmy and then Jarod to keep her adrenalin pumping. Now, that there was no noise to distract her, no people for her to ignore or argue with, she felt more than alone. She felt lost.

"_Hang onto something, Angel. You can't come with me this time."_

"_Your father always seemed to have a gentle quality when you were around."_

"_The new Parker legacy begins with you."_

"_Your father loved you."_

"_God be with you, Angel."_

She dropped the fork into the bowl of melons and strawberries in front of her and raised her hands to her ears. Before she realized it was happening, her body began trembling violently and the tears she'd fought all night finally began to fall. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

* * *

Jarod searched the house, his panic building when he saw the mess in the kitchen. The plate he'd left for her was cracked and discarded in the ceramic sink. The juice and meat of a melon and two kinds of berries were strewn across the tiled floor with stained shards of glass intermingled at a high ratio. Though he told himself the red stains on the swinging door were from the berries, his mind could not help taunting him with the idea it could be her blood.

"Parker!"

Chastising himself for not staying in the house until she returned, he swung open the door to her mother's studio. A quick glance told him everything was in its place and, immediately, Jarod pulled the portal closed and raced toward the stairs.

"Parker, where are you?"

The bedroom was in the same condition it had been earlier. The bed was made. The clothes she'd worn to the bar were tossed over a wooden rocking chair. The closets held nothing but designer label blouses and neatly tailored suits. The telephone was in its cradle and the Caller ID did not indicate any new calls.

Frustrated, the man spun in one place, looking for something in the room that might help him understand what had happened in his absence. When his eyes fell on the dresser, he came to an abrupt stop. Moving toward the piece of mahogany furniture, he gently lifted the photo from its place on her jewelry box.

"_Daddy woke me in the middle of the night," she told him. "He drove me and Momma to this cove. When I told him I was cold, he put his jacket around my shoulders and held me in his lap. When I asked what we were doing he told me I had to be still or I might miss it."_

"_Miss what?"_

_She grinned and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "The sunrise."_

_His brows furrowed and his dark eyes slid over her face in curiosity. "But there is a sunrise every morning. If you miss one . . ."_

"_No," she said, shaking her head fervently. "Daddy said that every sunrise is special. He said they're like snowflakes, and no two are exactly alike."_

_The young man frowned at the analogy but did not question her. Instead, he leaned forward, anxious to hear more of what she had to say._

"_Oh, Jarod, I wish you could have seen it. One second it was so dark I could barely see where the rocks ended. Pretty soon, there were all these colors rising from the water. And, everything was so quiet! Daddy took a family picture. He said that he's sure this morning's sunrise is the most beautiful ever, because he saw it with me and Momma."_

Dropping the photo back on the dresser, Jarod glanced at his watch and hurried out of the room.

* * *

He parked the Jeep behind her Porsche and let out a sigh of relief. It was second nature for him to scan the immediate area for signs of the Centre but, tonight, the ritual was forgotten. Without hesitation, Jarod moved from the vehicle and started up the rocky slope.

She was crouched on the largest boulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she kept herself from sitting on the cold slate. He came to a stop about ten feet behind her. Though he knew she heard him approach, Miss Parker kept her eyes on the horizon.

"Are you all right?" he asked, softly.

"I'm fine."

"How long have you been here?" he asked, glancing at the horizon.

"Since four."

Jarod sighed and glanced at his watch. She'd been sitting on a rock, staring out at the ocean for almost an hour, waiting for a sunrise that would not happen for another ninety minutes.

"I went back to the house, but you were gone," she said.

"You told me not to be there when you returned, that I was making things more difficult for you."

"Yet, here you are."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, though it sounded more like a threat.

Miss Parker did not reply verbally, but he saw her body shift and a slight shake of her head as she took a tighter hold of her knees. He smiled, but did not comment nor did he move closer, knowing she was not ready for him to invade her personal space.

In the silence that followed, he watched her continue to stare out at the ocean. It was sad, he thought, that the place she felt closest to her father was a place she'd only visited once, as a child.

"Where did you go?"

"To see Sydney," he admitted.

For the first time, she looked at him, over her shoulder. "Do you think that was a smart thing to do? Someone may have seen you. Hell, someone may have seen you come here."

He shrugged and grinned. "I'll take my chances."

"Well," she sighed, looking back at the ocean, "since you're feeling so brave tonight, you may as well come over here and sit down. No sense giving them an easy target."

Jarod moved closer, prepared to obey the command. When he saw her shiver, he slipped out of his jacket and he laid it out like a picnic blanket. Gently, he lowered the woman onto the garment then, without a word, the Pretender sat beside his childhood friend and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. When he felt the brunette's clasped hands rest on his knee, Jarod looked at her, wondering if she might have been praying.

"How did you find me?"

"I went back to the house and saw the mess in the kitchen. I thought something might have happened, then remembered what you said about this place. It seemed the logical place to look for you."

"That's not what I meant," she told him, keeping her voice low. "How did you know I was at that bar? I could have been anywhere."

Taking a deep breath, Jarod gently stroked her arm. "It is the same bar you went to, after Thomas died. It never occurred to me that you might go elsewhere."

Miss Parker did not reply but, after a few moments of silence, she snuggled closer to him. Whether it was nothing more than an instinct to keep warm, or an intentional display of affection, Jarod did not know. However, he did know better than to question her so, instead, the Pretender cupped his free hand over hers and squeezed them gently.

They sat in silence, with their bodies pressed against each other, until the sky began to lighten. As the horizon became more defined by hues of yellow, orange and red, he felt Miss Parker's body begin to relax. The gentle breeze from the ocean suddenly picked up, making it strong enough to lightly sweep her hair against his cheek. Though, initially, he found the tickling sensation to be annoying, after only a few seconds, Jarod decided it was a comfort. Her hands opened under his and, soon, their fingers were intertwined.

After the sun pulled itself completely from the sea, Jarod looked down at the woman in his arms. Her blue eyes were still sparkling with tears and, though her cheeks held a red glow from the salty wind, the tracks of previously spent tears were still visible.

Feeling the weight of his stare, Miss Parker slowly drew her gaze away from the horizon and settled on his face. Still in his arms, she smiled softly as he brought his thumb to her cheek and gently wiped away a stray tear.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"You're welcome," he assured her, "but what, exactly, have I done?"

"You came looking for me. You found me."

As her hand tenderly stroked the bristly growth of hair that was beginning to form on his jaw, Jarod replied, "Thank you for letting me stay."

Without warning, her hand slid behind Jarod's neck, pulling him toward her as her mouth rose to meet his. Though the kiss was light, and their lips barely touched, the Pretender drew away. Reminding himself that she was vulnerable, he shook his head and managed, "Parker, no. Not tonight."

His dark eyes allowed Miss Parker see the confusion and guilt he was beginning to feel, but she could not find the words to reassure him, or to explain. She didn't need him in her bed. She didn't want him feeling guilty or confused, nor did she want to start something neither of them could finish. She trusted him to keep her safe. All she wanted from him, tonight, was his touch and his warmth. Everything else could wait.

Running her thumb over his lips, Miss Parker murmured that it was all right and kissed him a second time.

TBC

feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)

Note: Thank you all for such a great response! I really appreciate it. I'm also very glad that you're enjoying this story because, in all honesty, it's the only story I can concentrate on at the moment ;-) Thanks again!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer in part 1

**Angel  
**by imagine

_**Part 3 - The Darkness**_

They walked down the jagged incline that led to the cars, each holding on to the other for support. By the time they reached the Porsche, however, Miss Parker had lost some of the serenity she'd possessed during the sunrise. Though she did not push him away, her smile faded and Miss Parker fell into a somber silence.

"It's going to be all right," he murmured. Brushing her hair back with both hands, he bent his knees so he could look directly into the woman's eyes. "You _will _get through today."

She took a deep breath and nodded, but said nothing as she slipped into the driver's seat. He stood by the door, waiting for the engine to start and for the roof to fold into itself. When she finally obliged his silent request, Jarod leaned into the car and, before she could object, kissed her gently on the lips. "Go home and get some rest. I will be along in a few minutes."

"Where are you going?"

"Relax," he grinned. "I just need to leave my Jeep somewhere less obvious than your driveway. I won't be long."

She swallowed her impulse to ask him for a promise, and shifted the car into gear.

* * *

Sitting on the steps that led to the second floor, Miss Parker had her arms crossed over her knees and her head lowered. He gently placed his bag at the edge of the room and moved closer, his eyes darting around the room for signs of trouble. Though the sun was creeping in, the house was still heavy with shadows that darkened corners and alcoves. There were plenty of places for danger to lurk.

"Parker?"

Despite his soft tone, she was startled by his voice. Miss Parker's gaze shot up to him but, as recognition dawned, her features relaxed. Her eyes were red and her face was, once again, distorted with tears. Immediately, Jarod forgot about his anxiousness and sat beside the woman.

"It's been a long night."

"And it's going to be an even longer day." Leaning into him as his arm slid around her shoulder, she sighed, "Lyle called. Raines hired a limo and wants us to ride together as a family."

He heard her voice crack on the last word and tightened his hold on her but, before he could offer any words of support, she said, "I told him no."

Jarod's eyes widened and he pulled back far enough to look at her face. "Really?"

"It's bad enough that I have to do this, I'll be damned if I'm going to do it on Raines' terms," she growled. When he smiled in approval, she added softly, "I called Sydney. He and Broots have been my family for years."

Jarod nodded and slowly rose from the step, pulling her to her feet as he stood. "Well, it's barely six thirty. Sydney won't be here for at least another two and a half hours. Until then, you need to go upstairs and rest. I'll bring you some tea and . . ."

His voice came to an abrupt stop as she slid a hand to his chest. Looking down into the soft, blue eyes of the brunette, he tilted his head in question.

"Come with me," she whispered, sliding a finger over his lips to prevent any protests.

Gently, the Pretender drew her hand away from his mouth and shook his head sadly. "Parker, it's not a good idea. Not tonight."

Miss Parker averted her gaze long enough to gain control of her voice. She didn't know if she had the strength, or the inclination, to explain herself to him but, when she looked into his dark eyes, she heard herself say, "It's not what you think, Jarod. I swear, I am not using you as a replacement for Jer . . Jimmy."

"Parker . . ."

"You were right. I was using him to ... avoid the situation. I don't want anything but for you to hold me until I fall asleep."

He stared at her, unable to form a response. He wanted to believe that she was not using him, as much as he wanted to believe he would not allow it to happen.

His intentions, when he arrived at the house, had not included staying with her all night. Appointing himself her guardian had been a last-minute decision that was made the moment he saw her leave the bar with Jimmy. Since then, he had been so busy urging Miss Parker to deal with her emotions that Jarod had not considered his own feelings, or where the night might lead them.

"Please," she told him in a slow, thick voice. "I don't want to be alone."

Jarod would never know whether it was the softness of her voice, the grief etched on her face, or the warmth of her hand on his arm that made him nod his head. When she offered him a weak smile of thanks, Jarod knew he was walking a very thin, dangerous line.

With their history, it wouldn't take much for a simple act of comfort to escalate into something more physical. If he allowed his fantasies to come to life, it could be the beginning of a new and wonderful relationship between them as easily as it could be the mark of their destruction.

"Just until you fall asleep," he murmured.

Without a word, Miss Parker smiled, slid her hand into his and led Jarod up the stairs.

* * *

As Jarod moved quietly down the stairs, his eyes remained fixed on the door to her bedroom. Despite the strong urge to do otherwise, he had not allowed their closeness to escalate into anything that would complicate matters. Though he was proud of the accomplishment, and was confident that it was the right decision, Jarod felt a sharp pang of disappointment. Having her so close had been difficult, but it had also seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Unfortunately, even in his arms, Miss Parker had been unable to completely relax and, when he offered her a sleeping pill, she'd refused. So, as she dozed, she talked about her childhood and about her parents. Her voice had a distant quality as she told him stories about her mother and the man she believed her father had once been. But, when the nostalgia gave way to reality, and she began talking about her father's death and the legacy he insisted she continue, Miss Parker became restless in Jarod's arms.

"_They loved each other and they loved me," she whispered, staring at the ceiling as she spoke. "I will believe that, with all my heart, until the day I die. If it hadn't been for the Centre . . ."_

"_You are the best of both of them, Parker. They did love you and, in their own ways, each taught you to be someone stronger than they ever hoped to be. The Centre can never take that from you." _

"_I'm tired," she sighed. "I don't want to be strong anymore."_

"_You wouldn't know how to be anything else."_

"_I'm willing to learn." Yawning, she slid her hand over his chest and snuggled against his shoulder as she closed her eyes. "I don't want to fulfill some ancient prophecy, or rebuild the Parker legacy. It's too much. All I want is what was promised to me as a child, Jarod, I want the happily ever after."_

The rumbling of water pipes shook him from his thoughts and Jarod looked up at the ceiling. She was awake.

Glancing at his watch, he sighed and moved toward the kitchen, trying not to think about how little sleep she'd gotten. Though she had finally accepted her father's death, her emotions were still raw and her determination to suppress them was doing nothing but adding to her fatigue, bringing her to the edge of exhaustion.

Sydney would arrive in less than an hour and, Jarod had no doubt that Miss Parker would take on her Ice Queen persona. Her body and expressions would be tense, her words would be sharp and her movements would be deliberate. Knowing that the wrong word or look would, literally, bring her to her knees, and Jarod had no idea how long she would be able to keep up the facade. He could only hope it lasted until she was safe at home.

Shaking his head, Jarod pushed at the door and forced his thoughts on the kitchen. Although it did not seem possible, the mess he'd left when he went in search of Miss Parker was even more disturbing in an early morning light. Crossing the sticky kitchen tile, he retrieved a mop and pail from the back porch.

He needed the mindless, physical activity that cleaning the kitchen offered him and, within minutes, he was scouring walls, floors, counter tops and windows. He was on his hands and knees, scraping at a particularly stubborn spot of berry seeds and juice when he felt the weight of a heavy stare. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Miss Parker standing behind him.

She stared at him, openly watching the muscles in his back and buttocks ripple. Her eyes slid to his face as he turned, but only for a moment. "Not bad."

Falling forward to continue scrubbing the tile, he answered, "It took some time, but I think I finally got it up to your standards."

"Too bad I wasn't necessarily talking about the cleaning job."

He faced her, raised an eyebrow and smiled as he slowly rose to his feet. His eyes, however, were dancing across her body while hers did the same with his. Judging by the way her blue silk robe hung, Jarod had no doubt she was wearing little else. Her feet were bare and her hair, still damp from the shower, fell to her shoulders.

"Be careful where you step," he warned, softly. Turning away, he lifted the bucket and disappeared onto the porch. "There may still be glass on the floor."

Miss Parker heard the splash as he tossed the dirty water into the bushes but waited until he returned to the room before padding nonchalantly to the nearest chair. Crossing her legs, she tightened the sash around her waist, folded her hands on the table and watched as he reached for the tea kettle.

Doing his best to ignore her movements, and the affect they were having on him, Jarod filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. After igniting the burner, and unable to conjure up another way to stall the inevitable, Jarod took a deep breath and finally moved to the chair. The left side of her robe was askew, revealing a hint of her shoulder and the curve of her breast.

Clearing his throat, Jarod brought his eyes to her face. "You didn't sleep very long."

"You left."

"I only promised to stay until you fell asleep," he pointed out.

She nodded but dropped her eyes to her clasped hands.

"It will be easier, tonight," he promised, "after it's all over."

She watched his hand slide over hers and, without lifting her eyes, asked quietly, "Will you be here, after it's all over?"

"Do you want me to be?"

Tilting her head back, against the top of the chair, the brunette closed her eyes but said nothing. The robe opened slightly more than he was comfortable with but, this time, Jarod was unable to turn away. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest and memorized the curves and dimples that were exposed. It wasn't until the tea kettle shrieked that, suddenly self-conscious, the Pretender forced his gaze to her face.

When Jarod saw the blue eyes trained on his face, and her small smile, he realized she'd been watching him, studying his reactions to her. Immediately, he tried to draw his hand away but Miss Parker silently tightened her gentle grasp.

"The . . . kettle," he croaked.

She sighed and nodded, watching him rise from the table as she released his hand. Her sad smile made him pause, as if he were searching for something to say but the insistent screaming of the boiling water finally made Jarod turn away.

"Do you believe there is a Heaven?" she asked as he placed a mug of tea in front of her.

He hesitated. "I honestly don't know."

"My mother believed there was a Heaven."

"Your mother was much more knowledgeable about those kinds of things than I could ever hope to be."

"She also believed in Hell," Miss Parker continued, her eyes trained on the drink. "It's hard to imagine that there could be a place worse than the Centre."

He had a strong feeling of where the conversation was headed and frowned. The beliefs she was talking about were nothing he had ever been able to comprehend. Over the years, he had questioned theologians, as well as the leaders of many different churches and their congregations, but the logic behind their convictions had always escaped him. Even the monks that offered him refuge after Kyle's death had been unable to make him completely understand the concept of a higher power, let alone the Faith they put in the Entity.

Miss Parker looked up at him, when he did not respond. Still standing at the stove, his eyes were filled with apology.

"It's all right, Jarod," she told him, forcing a smile of reassurance before turning back to her drink, "We don't have to talk about this. I know it makes you uncomfortable."

"Your mother's beliefs were a big part of who she was, Miss Parker," he said. Finally lowering himself to his seat, he added, "They made her strong. They gave her the courage she needed to try to help me and Angelo and the other children at the Centre. They were the reason . . ."

"They were the reason she died."

"No. Raines was the reason she died. They were the reason she lived."

Miss Parker slid her hands around the warm mug, but said nothing.

"Your mother was trying to protect Ethan from your father, and the Centre," he reminded her. "She put her trust in Raines because she thought he could help. The fact that he betrayed her trust was not her fault."

"Trust can kill you."

"Or set you free."

"Like everything else, in life, it's a crap shoot," she said, bringing the drink to her lips.

Despite her harsh tone, he heard the disappointment in her voice. Though she would not meet his eyes, Jarod kept his gaze on her face as he spoke, "A long time ago, I helped a young runaway named Jessie. When I found her, she'd been beaten severely and was close to death. Based on her vitals, the viciousness of her injuries and the length of time she had gone without medical care, she should have died."

"But she survived."

Though there had not been a question, Jarod nodded. "Yes, she made a full recovery."

"Of course she did. Otherwise there would be no point in you telling me the story."

Ignoring her sarcasm, Jarod continued in a soft voice, "When she was released from the hospital, Jessie gave me something she swore had helped keep her safe. She said that she hoped it would do the same for me."

Miss Parker watched as he retrieved something from the depths of his pockets and held it out to her. Laced between Jarod's fingers was a simple gold link chain and, hanging from the chain, in the middle of his palm was a gold angel pendant.

"I never really believed the pendant had powers but, because Jessie believed, I kept it with me," he told her, sadly. "She trusted that there was something more to the universe than what we can see and touch. It is a beautiful thought."

"But you can't make yourself believe, can you?"

Jarod sighed. "I have tried. I have visited several churches, talked to people, and read up on the subject. But, I would be lying if I told you I understood the concept the way Jessie - or your mother - understood it, Miss Parker."

"That makes two of us."

"No," he said softly. "I think your mother made sure you had a firm grasp on the topic. It was important to her that you have that kind of peace in your life, Miss Parker."

When she wrapped her arms across her chest, hugging herself, Jarod frowned. "I know you are hurting, Miss Parker and I am truly sorry that I do not have the knowledge necessary to make it go away."

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears as he stood and moved behind her.

"I want you to have this," he whispered, sliding the chain and pendant around her neck. "If it really has the powers Jessie believed, maybe it will offer you the same kind of comfort it offered her."

* * *

Dressed in a simple black suit, her hair was pulled off her neck and the first three buttons of the steel grey blouse she wore were undone. Her makeup was so light, it barely hid the fact that she had been crying. And, except for the square ring he knew she never took off, the only other jewelry Miss Parker wore was the angel pendant.

"You look beautiful," he said softly.

She fingered the gold charm and smiled as she continued down the steps. "Sydney and Broots will be here any minute."

"I know." Retrieving his bag from beside the stairs, he slid his hand into hers and squeezed it gently. "Lean on them today, Parker. Believe it, or not, they need and want to help you as much as I do."

Hesitating, Miss Parker swallowed and dropped her eyes to the bag. "I see you made up your mind. You're leaving."

"No. I will be back, Parker," he promised. "I just need to be somewhere else right now."

"Where?"

"It's best if you don't know my plans. I don't want you to have to lie when Sydney asks questions."

"Nice try, but you already told me you'd visited Sydney. We both know that if he knows you're here, he knows _why_ you're here."

Slowly, Jarod slid his hands from hers.

"But, he doesn't approve, does he?" The words came out much harsher than she intended but when Jarod did not deny the statement, Miss Parker felt her insides clench. "He doesn't like that you're here, with me."

"He's afraid for us."

"He's afraid for _you_," she replied, forcing the hurt from her voice, "and he's right. It's dangerous for you to stay. If Lyle or Raines found out . . ."

"They won't."

"Don't be so cocky. You could lose more than your freedom, this time. You could lose your life."

He stared at her. "Are you saying that you want me to leave?"

She hesitated then brought her eyes to his. "I'm saying I don't want you to get caught."

Though he was desperate to ease the concern he heard in her voice, Jarod found himself expecting her to add the words, "Not this way." or "Not yet." to the end of her sentence. When the words didn't come, he smiled inwardly and took a step toward the woman.

"I need to do this, Parker, but I don't want you to worry. I will be all right. I always am."

She was ready to believe him, to accept his promise as fact, until he grinned. The quick flash of teeth and glint in his eye, though, caused her to scowl and turn away.

"Why do you have to be such an arrogant ass?"

"Excuse me?"

Pivoting toward him when he grabbed her arm, she easily pulled out of his grip and glared at the man. In spite of herself, she found a brief sense of satisfaction when she noticed the smile had slipped from his face.

"You heard me. This is not all about you. I did not invite you here, Jarod, nor did I ask for your help but, dammit, the moment someone discovers you in Blue Cove, I'm going to be pulled in front of the Triumvirate. Is that what you want, to make life more difficult for me? Do you hate me so much?"

"No, of course not. Parker, I don't hate you."

"Then, don't do whatever it is you're planning. Just get in your car and drive as far away from here as possible."

"You don't mean what you're saying."

"Don't I?" she dared, taking a step back as he moved toward her. "You did what you set out to do, Jarod. You saved me. I'm grieving for my father and accepting his death. Now, get the hell out of town so I can stop worrying about you getting caught."

His eyes danced over her face in the silence that followed then, in a deep, but soft, voice, he asked, "Would you really worry about me?"

"Dammit! Why do I have to spell everything out for you? I thought you were a genius," she snapped, her eyes filling with tears as her tone became harsher. "I should have called a Sweeper team, the moment I saw your sorry ass in that bar, but I didn't. I didn't because, the last time you were caught, it almost killed me."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, suddenly anxious. "Did they ... did they hurt you because of me?"

The laugh she let out was quick but it was void of any humor. "I couldn't close my eyes without seeing your face, Jarod. I heard your voice, in my sleep, blaming me. And, even after you escaped, the only way I could make it all stop was to medicate myself. For weeks, all I swallowed was Scotch and the pain pills given to me at the hospital! If Sydney hadn't intervened . . ."

Her confession startled him and, as her voice trailed off, he wondered why Sydney had never told him about the havoc his capture had wreaked upon her recovery.

"I never blamed you, Parker," he said, softly. "It wasn't your fault I was captured."

"Oh, please, for once in your life, give me some credit. You were on the plane, Jarod, with the boy and your father. You had your family," she continued shakily, "and you gave it up to stay with me."

"You were hurt very badly, Miss Parker. You needed me and I couldn't leave you. If I had to do it again, knowing how it would play out, I would make the same choices."

"That's the problem!" she cried. "Stop trying to be my hero. Stop waiting for me to _need_ you. It's not healthy for either of us."

Turning abruptly, she wiped her eyes and managed to increase the distance between them by only a few steps before she felt his hands on her shoulders. Coming to a reluctant stop, she let him pull her back, against his broad chest, but kept her arms folded tightly across her body. Resisting the urge to face him, Miss Parker closed her eyes as he brought his mouth to her ear.

"I won't get caught," he promised, in a husky voice, "You will have your happily ever after, Parker. I promise."

His mouth pressed gently against the back of her neck before his touch faded away and a cool breeze made her shiver. Miss Parker spun on her heel, only to find that the room was empty. Peripherally, she saw movement to her left and turned as the curtains fell against the window. An instant later, Jarod's silhouette disappeared into the trees.

* * *

Despite the fact the sun was being suffocated by storm clouds, her eyes were hidden by dark glasses. As she walked across the lawn, flanked by Sydney and Broots, she alternated her gaze from the men to the sky, unable to bring herself to look at the open grave ahead of them.

When thunder rumbled in the distance, she muttered, "Rain at a funeral is so cliche. My father would be appalled."

"I dunno. I think, today, it's more a sense of foreshadowing," Broots murmured, as they came to a stop.

She followed his gaze to the left. Lyle and Raines were moving across the lawn, each holding the hand of the youngest Parker. Without a word, she stepped away from her escorts and crossed into the path of her blood relatives. Ignoring the two men, she crouched in front of the little boy.

"Hi, Aaron," she smiled.

"Hi."

"Are you okay?"

The boy glanced at the two men beside him, then nodded.

Frowning, Miss Parker brushed his hair away from his eyes. When he dropped his eyes, she kissed him tenderly on the forehead and promised, "It will all be over soon. I promise."

"Aaron, why don't you go with Mr. Raines and find us some seats?" Lyle interjected. "I need to talk to our sister."

Reluctantly, the boy released Lyle's hand and moved toward the canopy-covered grave. She watched him leave then rose to face her twin, her eyes hardening as they met his.

"You had your chance to be with him today," he told her. "All you had to do was ride with us in the limo."

"He shouldn't be here. He's too young."

"He's a Parker. He needs to learn to handle things like this."

"And how did you explain this to him? He's believed that Daddy was dead for years. What did you tell him?"

Lyle's eyes narrowed. "I told him the truth."

"And you think he has the capability of . . ."

"Let it go. We've had this discussion before, Parker. You have no say in how I raise Aaron. In case you've forgotten, dear old Dad named Raines and me as co-guardians of the boy."

"That Will was a forgery," she hissed.

"Funny, I don't remember the Judge agreeing with you on that point."

"You paid him off."

"Then, take me back to court and prove it," he dared, calmly moving toward the grave. "Until then, Aaron's welfare does not concern you."

Reaching under her jacket, to the holster at the small of her back, Miss Parker started after her twin. After only a few steps, she felt a hand on her arm.

"Miss Parker, now is not the time or the place."

Swinging toward the man, she felt her tears begin to well. "You don't understand, Syd. He's been with them too long. You saw the damage Raines did to Ethan. I'm not going to let him do the same thing to Aaron. He's not . . ."

"I know," he whispered, sliding his hand over the automatic. "But, this is not the way to get him away from them. It will only make things worse."

"Then, how do I make things better?" she pleaded. She was too tired to hide her desperation. Staring at Lyle, she watched, grief-stricken, as he took his seat beside Aaron. The boy peered at her over the back of the chair then, after a quick glance at her twin, turned to face forward. "I just want things to be better."

"I know." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, the psychiatrist led the woman toward the chairs that circled the grave. He slid her gun into the pocket of his jacket and, when they were out of Lyle's earshot, he whispered, "Jarod wants things to be better, as well."

Still in his arms, she looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock. "Jarod? What does Jarod have to do with any of this?"

"Trust him, Miss Parker."

* * *

The priest knew so little about her father, it should have made mourning easier. Other than the fact he knew Mr. Parker was a successful business man and that he was a father who had lost two wives, tragically, there was nothing in the eulogy that came close to describing the man she knew.

Yet, despite the drab summary of her father's life, the words sparked memories that made it impossible for her to pretend the person being memorialized was a stranger. Combined with her fears for Aaron and, now, Jarod, by the time the service was over, Miss Parker felt so battered and exhausted that even the simple act of breathing was difficult.

"M-Miss Parker, are you all right?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and looked up at the balding man. When he held out his hand, she smiled. Sliding her hand into his, she allowed the technician to help her to her feet, but her eyes were trained on the rose adorned the grave.

"Would you like a moment alone?" Sydney offered.

Still wearing the dark glasses, she slowly, brought her gaze to the older man and shook her head.

"I want to go home," she said, absently fingering the charm that hung around her neck.

Despite the warm wind that had suddenly gained strength, and the ground that was moist from the light rain, Miss Parker crossed the cemetery lawn at a regal, but quick, pace. At the car, she slid into the back seat and, while Sydney and Broots took their positions in the front, her eyes moved back to the grave.

"Goodbye, Daddy," she whispered as the car moved forward. "I'm going to miss you."

* * *

When she returned home and found the house was empty, Miss Parker did her best to ignore the fact she had expected otherwise. Sydney's words to trust Jarod were the last he would say on the matter and, as frustrated as she was with the psychiatrist, her fear for the Pretender was growing at an alarming rate.

For a time, small household chores occupied her mind and distracted her from worrying about the Pretender's welfare. Soon, though, her thoughts were racing at a ridiculous pace, jumping from one fear to the next as she pushed her childhood friend from her mind. Thoughts of her father, dying alone, mingled with thoughts of Aaron being raised by Lyle and Raines, which mixed with images of Jarod beaten and bound in a Sub-level cell.

By two o'clock in the afternoon, except for flashes of lightening, the sky was dark. The oppressiveness of the storm made it feel like the middle of the night; the weight of her self-imposed guilt made it feel like the sun had set for the last time. The streets, being battered by the torrential downpour, were flooding and the gentle breeze from the funeral had escalated into a heavy, dangerous wind.

She paced anxiously from the kitchen to the living room to her mother's studio, stopping frequently to glance out the windows. Each time the panes shuddered, she expected to find Jarod climbing into the house. Each time lightening flashed, she strained to see his form running across the lawn.

Each time she was disappointed, she wanted to break something.

"Where the hell are you?" she hissed to the empty room.

"I am right behind you."

Spinning toward the voice, Miss Parker let out a soft gasp as Jarod stepped into the hall. Mud was streaked across his forehead and cheek. His jacket was open, revealing a wet, form fitting T-shirt. The muscles in his chest and shoulders rippled as he wiped his face with the hem of the shirt but, though the beads of rain disappeared, his skin continued to glisten in the dim light.

"Are you all right?" she managed.

He nodded.

"You're shivering. Where have you been?"

Jarod took a step back and tugged at his jacket. When he was free of the garment, he tossed it over the bannister, reached into the inside pocket and retrieved a large, folded, plastic ziploc bag.

"Finding your happily ever after."

Her brows furrowed in confusion and, without pulling her eyes from his, she took his offering. Spreading the damp plastic to its natural size, she looked at its contents - an envelope and a folded document that held the stamp of a Notary.

"Open it," he laughed, as he slid out of his shoes. "I promise, it's good."

Glancing up at him, she ripped at the bag and reached inside, pulling out the sealed envelope. Her name was written neatly across the front and underlined with a flourish. The handwriting was unmistakable.

"This is my father's handwriting," she whispered. Looking up at Jarod, she shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Your father's personal effects arrived at the Centre last night." Disappearing into the hall bathroom, he retrieved a towel and ran it across his face and hair. "These items were among them."

"You went to the Centre?"

"Only for a short time," he admitted. Draping the towel around his neck, he used the bannister for support, pulled off his wet socks and shoved them into the mouth of his right shoe. "When I arrived, I discovered that Raines had moved everything to his house in the woods. My guess is that he had intended to destroy whatever had the potential of ruining his plans. Fortunately, the boxes arrived from the Canary Islands too late for him to take care of them before the funeral."

"Boxes," she repeated softly. "How many boxes?"

"I saw three."

"And, you . . . you looked through all of them?"

He nodded.

The house shook with thunder and, for a moment, it felt as if all the air had escaped the room. Suddenly lightheaded, she reaching back for the stair railing and, instead, found the Pretender's hand. She leaned into him, allowing him to lower her to the third step and then dropping her head to her knees. When she lifted her eyes, Jarod was sitting beside her, holding a glass of water to her lips.

Though she was still trembling, after a few sips of the drink, she slipped her hand back into the plastic pouch. Once the remaining document was freed from its sleeve, it took a few seconds before her mind and eyes joined forces. As the words printed on the front page, in bold type, came into focus, she felt a cold fist tighten around her lungs.

"This is his Will," she whispered.

"Look at the date. Your father had it drawn up a month after his jump from the plane. It supercedes anything Raines or Lyle may have, and it names you as Aaron's sole guardian."

She knew he had spoken but, at the moment, Miss Parker was not interested in what he had said. Slowly drawing her eyes from the legal papers, she glared at the Pretender.

"You read it. You went through my father's personal effects. While I was watching them lower him into the ground, you were up to your elbows in things he never meant you to see."

His apparent confusion did nothing but fuel her anger. Rising from the stairs, Miss Parker glared at the man who remained sitting. "You had no right, Jarod. You had no right to go through my father's things without asking me."

"I didn't want to upset you," he said and she wondered if he realized how condescending he sounded. "I had no idea what I was looking for or, for that matter, if the boxes and their contents still existed. If the search turned up nothing . . ."

"That's not why you kept quiet," she accused. The more heated her words became, the tighter she gripped the Will in her hand. "You were looking for secrets. You were looking for something about my father to use against me."

"No. I would never . . ."

"Do not finish that sentence," she warned, pointing a finger at him. "You and I both know that you've taken great pleasure in revealing the lies in my family history."

"Parker, you have no idea what you're saying." Jarod stood, his physique casting an intimidating shadow on the wall as lightening flashed in the window behind her. "I did not risk my freedom to search Raines' house just to discredit your family."

"Of course you didn't. Tell me, Jarod, how many boxes did you have to search before you found the scrolls?"

"If I had found the scrolls, I would have told you."

"Really? Or would you have hidden them until you had a chance to analyze them on your own, first?" she dared. "Is that why it took you so long to return? Were you hiding the scrolls?"

"Parker, you are not making sense. None of this had anything to do with the scrolls," he insisted, watching helplessly as she put more distance between them. "All I was trying to do was make you happy. I had no ulterior motive, no malicious intent, when I kept my activities a secret. I was just doing what I thought was best."

Miss Parker released a sad, sarcastic laugh. "You don't see the irony in this, do you? You are so quick to condemn my parents for their lies yet, when I catch you doing it, you have the balls to claim it's for my own good."

When the Pretender responded only with a slight nod of his head, the brunette moved directly in front of him and looked into his face, searching for some sign of an apology. Then, before he could say a word, she dropped the Will at his feet and moved back to the window.

"Your father did an excellent job of making sure these papers would stand up in a court of law," he said as he picked up the documents. "They are perfectly legal, Parker."

"They're useless, Jarod. Lyle and Raines will claim they're a forgery, just as I did with the first one."

"They are not forgeries."

"It doesn't matter," she said, facing him with her arms still crossed. "The Gruesome Twosome will threaten, or bribe, a judge to rule otherwise. They'll bring in experts and Aaron . . . Aaron won't understand what's happening."

"We'll explain it to him."

Blinking away the tears that filled her eyes, she shook her head and pushed past him. "Aaron is isolated, Jarod, almost as much as you were at the same age. He depends on Lyle, and trusts him the same way you trusted and depended on Sydney. They'll tell him lies, about me and my motivation for wanting custody because they know he'll believe them. I don't want him afraid of me, Jarod."

"Parker, that's never going to happen," he promised. "You're just exhausted. We don't have to discuss this now. You need to rest."

His hand fell gently on her shoulder but she shirked it away. "I may be dead on my feet, but no amount of sleep will change the facts, Jarod. If we do this your way, if we go back to the courts, I have a good chance of losing Aaron, forever. I am not willing to let that happen."

"You aren't suggesting that we leave him where he is, are you?"

"I don't know what I'm suggesting," she growled, raking her fingers through her hair. "Maybe he **_is _**better off with them."

"From the moment you brought Aaron into this world, you have fought to protect him from the Centre," he said, softly. "You love him and, for the first time ever, I agree with something your father has done. He appointed **_you_** the boy's guardian, Parker. He trusted **_you_** to raise his son."

"Don't do that," she hissed. "Don't use my father against me. I told you, there is no way I can win a custody battle."

"We are misunderstanding each other a lot, tonight," he sighed. "Look at me, Parker." When she did as he commanded, Jarod smiled and gently pushed the hair from her eyes. "I promise, you will not lose him. You and I will figure out a way to save Aaron, together."

Unable to comprehend what he was promising, Miss Parker stared at the man. His hair was still damp, his shirt was wet and his jeans were caked with mud. Suddenly realizing that he was barefoot, and standing on the cold, wood floor of her hall, Miss Parker pulled towel from his shoulder and gently wiped the scratch of dirt from his forehead.

"You're shivering," she said, softly. "If you're going to help me, you need to get out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia."

"You're exhausted," he countered, mirroring her tone. "If you're going to help Aaron, you need to get some sleep before you collapse."

Taking a deep breath, Miss Parker released it slowly and handed him the towel. "So, we have a deal? You'll help me get Aaron, even if I don't choose to go through the courts?"

He smiled and nodded. "I am willing to do anything necessary to save the boy, Parker. We have a deal."

* * *

"Parker, no, don't do this. You don't . . ."

She heard the loud crack as Lyle struck the man across the face, bouncing his head off the headboard. There were violent sounds of a struggle as he was gagged, but she did not turn to see the damage. Instead, she folded her arms and moved from the bedroom.

"Do we have a deal?" she asked, when her twin followed her into the hall.

"Not until I hear the whole story. I want to know how you caught him."

She raised an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at her captive. With his arms spread to the side and his wrists were bound to the bed posts, his head hung limply over his chest. A washcloth, held in his mouth by a torn strip of the towel that lay discarded at his side, kept him quiet but the dark eyes that met her gaze spoke volumes.

"He showed up the night before the funeral, wanting to be my hero, wanting to help me grieve Daddy's death."

Lyle raised an eye brow and looked at the bound man. "Is that so? Why didn't you mention it at the funeral?"

"He left early that morning," she replied. "I thought he was gone for good."

Moving back into the room, she crossed to the bed and took in Jarod's condition. Blood trickled from the fresh cuts made by his wrist restraints during the struggle. His ankles were tied together and then tethered below the mattress at the foot of the bed. Even from where she stood, she could see the bruises that were emerging at the top of his feet. When the Pretender shifted self-consciously under her gaze, she turned her eyes back on her twin.

"It wasn't until later that afternoon, when he showed up at the house, that I realized I had an opportunity. He told me about the boxes Raines has at his house, and showed me the Will Daddy had drawn up while he was in exile. He said he wanted to help me get custody of Aaron."

"If you were so desperate to get the boy, why didn't you let him help you?"

"I knew a court battle wouldn't work," she said, moving around the bed. "After everything you and Raines put me through, last time, I knew that if you didn't hand the boy over to me, I would never get custody."

Lyle smirked and moved to her side, adding the weight of his stare to hers as he watched the bound Pretender. "How did he end up like this?"

Dropping her arms to her side, Miss Parker sat beside Jarod. He recoiled, and made a guttural protest that was trapped by the gag, as she reached out to stroke his hair. "I was exhausted. I hadn't slept in days. I told him I didn't want to be alone and asked him to stay with me."

"I see."

"No, you don't!" she hissed, shooting him a withering glare. "Jarod stayed because he thought he could help me. He thought he had something I needed and trusted that I wouldn't betray him."

"Worked out well for him, don't you think?"

Turning her attention back on the Pretender, she let her hand slide down the side of his face. "I fixed us each a drink, telling him I needed it to sleep, and we toasted our partnership. His drink didn't have alcohol, but the sleeping pills dissolved easily and Jarod drank it without hesitation. Within minutes, he could barely stand."

"And he woke up like this?" he grinned. Moving closer, he lightly fingered the deep gash in Jarod's left wrist until the man winced and let out a soft moan. "I wish I could have seen the look on his face."

Slapping his hand away from Jarod, Miss Parker rose from the bed. "I'm sure you can think of something much more creative to do to him, to elicit similarly entertaining results. The sooner you sign Aaron over to me, the sooner you can start having your fun. So, do we have a deal?"

"You are aware that I have two Sweepers downstairs. What's preventing me from just taking him?"

Without taking her eyes off Lyle, she slid her gun from its holster with one hand and ripped the gag from Jarod's mouth with the other. Forcing the muzzle of the automatic into the Pretender's mouth, she ordered him to remain still and smiled at Lyle when Jarod obeyed the command.

"You really expect me to believe you will kill him? Please."

Grabbing a handful of Jarod's hair with her free hand, she pulled the man's head back until he had no choice but to look at her. His dark eyes were wide and, she thought, beginning to show signs he understood what was happening to him.

"Do you have any idea the things he's done to me, over the years?" she hissed, glaring at the Pretender as she spoke to her brother. "Ten years ago, I was successful in my career at the Centre. I trusted my family. I had a sense of purpose. Now, I have nothing."

"And you blame him? This is your way of getting even."

Still holding the bound man in place, she slid her eyes to Lyle. "Jarod **_owes_** me. This is how I intend to make him pay. If you aren't willing to take him, in exchange for Aaron, I'll take his corpse to the Triumvirate. Aaron means nothing to them, compared to getting their Pretender. How do you think they'll react when they hear the details of his death?"

She stared at Lyle for a long moment, then turned back to the man in the bed and removed the gun with less care than when she inserted it, prompting a coughing fit from Jarod. She watched him, as he fought to catch his breath, her hand gripping his gag tightly in her right hand.

"I . . . trusted you," he mumbled. "Don't do this. Don't . . ."

While he struggled with his plea, Miss Parker disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned, she was holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills. The Pretender's eyes widened and, though he was still restrained, tried to back away from the woman.

"No. You don't have to do this, Parker. Please."

Ignoring him, she dropped four pills into the water and placed the bottle on the bed stand as she began stirring the solution. Curious, Lyle picked up the container.

"Pretty potent stuff," he said, as she straddled the bound man. "Are you sure you're not putting him to sleep for good?"

"It's a little stronger than I gave him last night, but he drank it willingly then," she admitted, looking down Jarod. "Somehow, I don't think I'm going to be as lucky this morning, so I have to allow for spillage."

While Jarod jerked his head from left to right, she forced him against the pillow and pressed the glass to his lips. Holding his nose, she poured the water into his mouth and ordered him to swallow. He spit it out, arched his back and tried to buck her off his body but Miss Parker persisted and, soon, most of the solution slid down his throat.

"Why?" he murmured, as she slid from his body. "Why are you doing this? All I wanted to do was help you."

Gently stroking his forehead as he succumbed to the drugs, Miss Parker whispered, "You **_are_** helping me, Jarod, and I am eternally grateful. This is the only way I can get Aaron away from the Centre. I couldn't do it without you."

Lyle looked from his sister to the drowsy man and nodded. "Okay. Let's say Raines and I decide to go along with this deal. You're a smart woman, Parker. I don't believe, for a second, that you're counting on the fact we won't be able to find you and take the boy back, once Jarod is secured."

"Not only won't you find us, you won't come looking for us," she said, facing Lyle.

"Really. And why is that?"

"Because, as I've mentioned, I have the DSA's. If I ever pick up your scent, I will not hesitate to do what Wonderboy should have done years ago. I will take them to every major news station in the country. I have absolutely no qualms in bringing the Centre down and sending you and Raines away for the rest of your lives."

His head tilted to one side, Lyle raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "You might be able to cut yourself a deal but, if we go to prison, we will take Sydney and Broots with us. You can't cut a deal for them, too."

A slow smile spread across her face. "Do we have a deal?"

He stared at her for a moment, then over her shoulder at the Pretender, who had closed his eyes. Finally, nodding, Lyle moved toward the bedroom door. "I will have the lawyers draw up the papers. They'll be ready to sign in a few hours."

"They're ready to be signed right now. Jarod will be out for a few hours, which should give you plenty of time to transport him as long as Raines is here in the next thirty minutes, with Aaron. If he's not, I make a phone call to the Triumvirate and tell them how their precious Pretender died"

He turned as she held out a custody agreement. Taking the forms, he looked at the Pretender before reading the terms. "Everything seems to be in order. Do I need to ask who drew these up?"

Taking the document from him, she stepped into the hall and closed the bedroom door. "The forms are pretty straightforward, Lyle. Even in a semi-drugged state, Jarod has the ability to write them."

"But, why would he?"

She smiled and started down the stairs. "He didn't have a choice."

* * *

Raines arrived five minutes before the deadline. Not bothering to ring the doorbell, he walked into the house with Aaron at his side and Willie behind him.

Miss Parker rose from the dining room table and crossed to where her little brother stood, his hand still tucked inside Raines'.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"Do you think I could get a hug?"

A small smile emerged on the boy's face, but as he took a step toward the woman, he came to a sudden stop. The grin disappeared and, with wide eyes, Aaron looked up at Raines who still had a tight hold on the boy's hand.

"Let him go," she ordered, not bothering to hide the threat in her tone.

Glancing at the boy, the old man nodded and followed the command but Aaron did not move. Confused, the child looked between the adults, hoping for someone to tell him what to do.

"It's okay, Honey, you didn't do anything wrong," Miss Parker promised. Crouching in front of Aaron, she held out her arms. "Now, how about that hug?"

Hesitantly, Aaron complied with the request. By the time she released him, though, his smile had reappeared. Still at his eye level, Miss Parker returned the boy's grin and tenderly stroked his face.

"I've got a surprise for you," she whispered, conspiratorially.

"You do?"

She nodded and stood, keeping her hand around his. "It's in the kitchen."

"What is it?"

"Now, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" she laughed, escorting him to the room. Pushing open the door, she pointed to the table. "What do you think?"

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the reams of colored paper, crayons and water colors. "They're all for me?"

She nodded and helped him slide out of his jacket.

"Lyle, Mr. Raines and I have some business to take care of and, when we're done, you and I are going to take a little trip."

"We are? Just you and me?" he asked skeptically.

"Is that okay?"

He nodded then looked back at the art supplies. "What should I draw?"

"Anything you want," she smiled, placing a plastic mug of milk and a plate of cookies within his reach. "I just want you to stay here, until I come for you, okay?"

"Okay."

Leaving the boy, she stepped into the living room and glared at Raines and Willie. "Both of you, upstairs, with Lyle and the other two. I don't want any of you near him."

Though Raines' face hardened, he said nothing and moved up the stairs. Not waiting for her direction, he entered the bedroom, crossed to the bed and began examining the unconscious Pretender.

Miss Parker waited at the door, watching Raines go through the motions for only a few minutes before she interrupted him. "You got his vitals. That's enough of an exam. Now, sign the papers and get him the hell out of my house."

"Are we keeping you from something?" the old man asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes, you are," she snapped. "Aaron and I have a plane to catch."

"Fine," he wheezed. Motioning to Willie and the two sweepers, he said, "Take him to the car."

"Until you and Lyle have signed the papers," she said, standing between the bed and the men, "Jarod isn't going anywhere. Willie and the other two will sign as witnesses."

The men frowned but moved to the desk where the papers were laid out. A few minutes later, the transaction was complete. She watched as Willie released Jarod from his restraints and hoisted the man over his shoulder. Swallowing the urge to tell them to be careful, she fingered the angel pendant still hanging around her neck and stepped into the hall.

"Take the back stairs. I do not want Aaron to see him," she ordered, pointing toward the back of the house. "Is that understood?"

Willie glanced at Raines then nodded and started down the corridor. Immediately, Lyle's sweepers followed. Lyle and Raines, however, moved toward the front door.

"Aaron!" Lyle called, from the living room. "We're leaving."

A few seconds passed before the boy slipped sadly into the room. His eyes searched the room for Miss Parker. When she stepped beside him, he asked, in a small voice, "I thought we were taking a trip."

"We are," she promised. "The only people who are leaving are Lyle and Mr. Raines."

"Come here, Buddy," Lyle called, holding out his arms, "and give me a hug goodbye."

Reluctantly, the boy did as he was told, following it up by shaking Raines' hand, his eyes never leaving his sister's face. The moment his obligations were complete, Aaron took Miss Parker's hand and stood slightly behind her as the men moved toward the door.

"Goodbye, Parker," Lyle grinned, letting Raines move ahead of him. "Drop us a line, sometime."

"Don't count on it," she said, as he moved onto the porch. "But, you can give Jarod a message for me, when he comes to."

Lyle turned to face her. His first instinct was to deny the request but, the thought of being able to taunt the lab rat with a message from the person who betrayed him was too tempting. "What is it?"

"Tell him I said I thanks - I'm the closest I've ever been to my happily ever after."

Then, before Lyle could reply, Miss Parker closed the door.

THE END

feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)

Should I leave it there - or do you want an Epilogue?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - Okay, for those of you who did not like the way Chapter 3 ended, this one is for you. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer in part 1

**Angel  
**by imagine

_**Chapter 4 - The Light**_

She easily jimmied the lock on a window at the rear of the house and slipped inside. Though it appeared deserted, she moved slowly, with her hand wrapped tightly around the gun held in front of her. The muscles in her shoulders and arms were taut, forming an almost perfectly straight line from fingertip to shoulder blade. Her blue eyes moved around the room quickly, taking in everything as she looked for something to help her cause. At the door, she peered around the frame, listening for sounds that might indicate she was not alone.

Once a quick search of the adjoining rooms was completed, and she was satisfied the house was empty, the gun was holstered. The brunette crossed to the front door, and released the latch as she motioned toward the van parked at the edge of the trees. She watched from the porch as the vehicle approached and came to a stop only feet from where she stood. Then, without waiting for the occupants to exit, the woman turned and re-entered the house.

She was standing in the middle of the living room, her eyes scanning every corner, when the men crossed the threshold. Immediately, waving her arms toward the back of the house, she said, "Start at the end of the hall and make your way forward. I'll start at the other end and do the same. We'll meet right here."

"How many times are we going to have to search this house? It gives me the creeps."

Glaring at the balding man, who suddenly looked terrified as he realized his words were spoken aloud, she said, "As many times as it takes. Do you have a problem with that, Broots?"

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, quickly correcting himself with, "I mean, no, ma'am."

"Good. Now, what about you, Syd," she dared, shifting her attention on the older of the two men. "Any objections to searching Raines' house again?"

"No objections," he said softly, "but I would like to understand what you hope to find. You went through this house a week after he was taken, and then the three of us searched it again a month later. We found nothing either time."

"Haven't you heard? The third time is a charm."

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the woman. When she shifted under his gaze and moved toward the nearest room, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm. Though she could have easily slipped from his grasp, Miss Parker came to an abrupt halt and faced the man.

"It has been months, Parker," he said softly.

"So do you want to give up? Do you want to quit?" she dared. "You surprise me, Sydney. I thought Jarod was important to you. I thought you were worried about him."

"Of course I am worried," he countered, tightly. "But, the fact remains that it has been almost five months and we are no closer to finding him than we were the day he was taken. Lyle may have been telling the truth when he said Jarod escaped."

She let out a dull laugh and finally pulled from his touch. "Lyle is incapable of telling the truth. If Jarod had escaped, we would know. You would have been the first person he would have contacted."

"Not necessarily. He may be with his family. He may have . . ."

"If he were with the Major, Ethan would not have called me and told me I had to continue searching."

"E-Ethan called you?"

Her eyes slid from the psychiatrist to the balding man standing behind him. She nodded and took a deep breath before saying, "Two days ago, after the search of Angel House turned up empty. He said we needed to find him soon."

"So, why are we here? Why aren't we at the Centre where we can . . . ?"

"Because he isn't at the Centre, Syd!" she snapped, frustrated by the questions. "He isn't at the Centre or at any of the facilities we've searched. We can't keep guessing about where to look for him. We have to start at square one, again, and we're running out of time."

"They may have taken him out of the country," he pointed out. "Our time would be better spent sifting through the Centre database for . . ."

"He hasn't left the country." Moving to the desk at the back of the room, she began opening drawers, keeping her back to the two men. "Lyle and Raines have not left town since that night and there is no way in hell they would ship him off without one of them tagging along."

"She's right," Broots murmured. "I checked their personal records myself. Neither of them has gone further than Dover, and that was months ago, for only a few hours a day. But they did clear their schedules for the next two weeks."

"Which means Ethan was right. They plan on moving him soon and, if they do, we will never find him," she said. Then, as she continued searching the contents of the desk, she murmured, "There was something here, or at Lyle's apartment, and I missed it. I missed the clue that would lead us to where they're keeping him. We have to find it today."

Though they hesitated, glancing at each other out of concern for her sudden change of tone, neither man said a word.

"We're wasting time," she said softly, breaking the silence.

Nodding mutely, the men moved toward the back of the house. She waited until they disappeared into the back bedrooms then continued her search of the desk. At the back of the drawer, her hand wrapped around a small bottle. When she pulled it into the light and read the label, Miss Parker felt a sudden wave of deja vu.

"_Why?" he murmured, as she slid from his body. "Why are you doing this? All I wanted to do was help you."_

"_You are helping me, Jarod."_

She let the bottle of sleeping pills fall to the desk and closed her eyes, forcing the memories away. For months, she'd been haunted by his last words and, for months, she'd been desperate to give him the explanation she'd been unable to give him that night. The longer it took to find him, the more desperate she became. Her plan had failed and he was paying the price.

Turning abruptly, she wiped her eyes and started toward the hall. As she crossed over the large rag rug that was centered in the room, her heel caught in the material and Miss Parker stumbled forward. Quickly steadying herself, she turned to glare at the offending item and found the edge of the material was curled beneath itself, trapped between the floorboards.

Curious, she crouched beside the rug and lifted the opposite corner, her eyes widening at hinges hidden in the floor. Her heart rate increasing, she pulled at the flat ring that was embedded in one of the boards and, though the door was heavier than she expected, it opened easily. When it was standing upright, she peered into the dark hole that was left in the floor.

"Raines, you are a son of a bitch," she muttered.

Immediately, Miss Parker retrieved her gun and a flashlight from Raines' study. Keeping both in front of her, she slowly moved down the cement stairs. The further she descended, the colder the air seemed to get but, rather than the heavy dampness she expected, there was a stench of sweat and blood.

When she flipped the switch at the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in a narrow, windowless corridor that led to a heavy metal door. Both latches, one placed about six inches above her head and the other flush with the floor, were engaged.

Her hands were beginning to tremble as she slid the metal bars to the right and pushed the door open. As it swung inward, she noticed that the light from the hall illuminated only a fraction of the cell. Once again dependent on the flashlight, Miss Parker angled the beam from corner to corner and stepped cautiously into the room.

The only two air ducts in the room were in the ceiling and no larger than a sheet of notebook paper. The space in the wall, where windows should have been, had been filled so tightly with bricks that not even a sliver of natural light filtered into the room. Chains hung from the back wall and, even from where she stood, she could see that the metallic cuffs were stained with dried blood.

"Forget something?" a deep, tired voice asked.

Startled, she shifted the light to her right. She found him nestled against the wall in a prone position, his face buried in the bricks. His clothes were thin and, even in the dim light, she could see shadows of bruises and long scars on his back.

"You could say that."

She saw his body stiffen at the sound of her voice. Unsure, he rolled from one shoulder to the other. When he was frozen between sitting and laying, his hand rose to shield his eyes from the glare of the flashlight. Immediately, Miss Parker lowered the beam and took a step toward him.

The deep timber she knew his voice should be, was lost in labored, raspy breaths, making her name almost unrecognizable.

Not trusting that her own voice wouldn't crack, she nodded and took another step. Though the man relaxed slightly, she came to a halt when his confused expression suddenly transformed into anxious dread. He pushed himself to a sitting position and his gaze shifted toward the echo of rapid footsteps behind her. She waited, knowing that his quiet panic would soon subside.

"Sydney," he whispered disbelievingly.

"I'm right here, Jarod," the older man promised. Moving around Miss Parker, he sat beside the Pretender and, after a moment of hesitation, the younger man leaned into his mentor's embrace. "You're safe."

"Miss Parker," Broots grinned, coming to a stop at her side. "You found him."

She nodded as she watched Sydney wrap his arms around the Pretender. "Help Sydney get him to the van."

Doing as he was told, the technician positioned himself to Jarod's left as Sydney did the same at the man's right. Together, they helped the Pretender to his feet but, once he was upright, Jarod waved them away. He started toward the door at a slow, painful gait and came to a brief halt in front of the brunette. Though he said nothing, when she was unable to hold his harsh gaze, Jarod shook his head in disappointment before heeding Sydney's gentle warning that Raines would be returning soon.

Miss Parker waited until the three men were at the door, before following.

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Having been imprisoned in darkness for months, Jarod flinched violently at his first contact with direct sunlight. A raw cry escaped his throat as he buried his face in his mentor's shoulder. Immediately, Sydney slid his arm protectively around the man he had raised and held him against the wall of the stairwell.

"Keep your eyes closed," he murmured. "Trust me. You are safe."

She saw the Pretender hesitate before reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. His right hand tightened on Sydney's shoulder while his left rose to cover his eyes then, slowly and awkwardly, Jarod moved up the cement steps.

Broots followed closely behind, his hands lifted to support Jarod's back until they were standing safely in the middle of Raines' living room. While they waited for the injured man to catch his breath, Miss Parker carefully dropped the trap door back into place and covered it with the rag rug. Then, moving around the men, she propped open the front door and crossed to where the van was parked.

By the time she was seated in the driver's seat, Jarod was crossing from the house to the porch. He came to another stop but, unlike the previous delays, this time, a small smile started to stretch across his bruised face. With his eyes closed, he lifted his face to the sky and took a deep breath. Sydney allowed him the moment to savor his freedom then quietly urged the man down the stairs and into the van.

"This isn't the Centre, is it?" he asked, when he was belted into his seat.

"No, you were being kept at Raines' house in the woods," Sydney replied. Reaching into the bag between the seats, he retrieved a bottle of water, opened it, and pressed the container between the younger man's hands.

"And, where are you taking me?".

She heard the suspicion in his voice and glanced in the rear view mirror. Sydney met her gaze then turned back to the man beside him. "We are taking you some place you can rest and recuperate. You will be safe, Jarod."

When the van started moving, Jarod took a long swallow of water and released a soft sigh. Though his eyes were still closed, he turned his face toward the window and rested his forehead on the glass.

"What time is it?"

Surprised by the question, Sydney hesitated then looked at his watch. "Twenty five past one in the afternoon."

"The hottest part of the day. Summer is over," he whispered, sadly pressing his open palm against the pane. "Isn't it?"

"Not quite," the psychiatrist replied, with a slight smile. Patting Jarod on the back he added, "There are a few weeks left, plenty of time for you to see the sun again."

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He dozed periodically during the drive, but the slumber was never deep and it was never restful. When they finally stopped, he knew they were several hours from Delaware. Sydney and Broots were no longer with them, having gone back to the Centre to solidify their alibis. His mentor had promised to see him the next day, but, for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours, Jarod would be alone with Miss Parker and he was not sure how he felt about the fact.

Slipping on the dark glasses Broots had found in the glove compartment, Jarod looked out the window. He discovered quickly, though, that the muted red glow of the sky was still too bright for him. Disappointed, he closed his eyes and pushed himself from the chair, not bothering with removing the glasses.

A cool breeze greeted him as he stepped from the van and, once again, Jarod stopped to fill his lungs. After months of stale air that was thick with the smell of his own sweat and fear, he could not seem to get his fill of the late Summer air of the mountains. She waited patiently, watching his face until he nodded he was ready to continue then led him to the steps of another house.

"This is a bungalow I rented when I left Blue Cove," she told him. "No one at the Centre knows about it. You'll be safe here."

"For how long?"

"As long as you need."

Jarod cocked his head to the side and turned his face toward hers.

"No one will find you here."

"Is that so?"

"You have every right to doubt me, Jarod," she said, unsure of whether his question was honest or a taunt, "but there is a small part of you that still trusts me. Go with it."

He hesitated then placed his hand on her shoulder to indicate he was ready to continue into the house. As she began to move, though, he warned, "It may be a small part, Miss Parker, but it's holding everything together. Don't destroy it."

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They sat in the kitchen for a short time, eating a light meal of broth in silence. When they were done, she helped him to the bathroom. While he moved slowly around the room, she filled the tub with warm water.

"There are fresh clothes on the counter to your left, next to a razor and shaving cream. The towel bar is on the wall to your right," she said, watching him sit, still fully dressed, on the edge of the tub. He slid his hand into the water and, almost immediately, his entire body seemed to relax. "The room is dark, so you should be able to manage. Call me if you need help."

When he nodded, she backed out of the room and closed the door but did not move from the threshold for several minutes. She listened for sounds that didn't belong, sounds that would tell her if he needed help. Thankfully, all she heard were a few faint splashes and no sounds of distress.

Finally, letting out a soft sigh, she turned away from the door and crossed to the windows of the bedroom. Without denying the light breeze she knew he craved, Miss Parker dropped the shades and pulled at the curtains. Additionally, on three of the four windows, she draped heavy blankets. The fourth, she decided, did not need barricading because of the thick shrubbery that filtered the sun from the outside.

As she stepped away from the windows, she noticed the clock on the night stand. Comparing its report of the time to that of her wristwatch, Miss Parker frowned and moved to the bathroom.

"Jarod?"

"I'll be out in a minute."

In the time it took him to reply, her hand had wrapped itself around the knob. Slowly, she loosened her grip and stepped away from the door, staring at it until it opened.

Dressed in the sweat pants and T-shirt she had left for him, Jarod did not immediately move into the bedroom. Framed by the doorway, he looked at the makeshift window dressings and smiled.

"Those really aren't necessary," he said, indicating the blankets. "The sun set hours ago."

"Someone once told me that there is a sunrise every morning. So far, he's been right."

Smiling at the reference to their childhood conversation, the Pretender hugged his bruised ribs and moved into the room. He bypassed the Queen-sized bed and lowered himself into the leather recliner in the corner.

"Okay," she sighed, looking at the small tube in her hand. "Sydney wants this antibiotic cream applied three times a day. When we're done, you can get some sleep. You're exhausted."

His reply was automatic and, even as the words were said, he regretted them. "Thanks, but I'll pass. The last time I fell asleep with you in the room, I woke up bound and gagged in the trunk of a car."

The tone of his voice startled her, not because it was undeserved but because it was unexpected. Since freeing him from the house in the woods, Jarod had said very little to her but, the words he had spoken had not been harsh or accusatory. She had almost convinced herself that he had forgiven her for the past five months.

"I suppose I deserved that."

"Gee. You _suppose_ so, do you?"

She hesitated, watching his jaw tighten and his hands ball into fists, opening the wounds that decorated his wrists. Steeling herself for more outbursts, she dragged the steamer trunk from the end of the bed to his side and sat down.

"Let's get this over with," she said, lining up the medical supplies on a clean towel. "Take your shirt off."

He sighed then reluctantly did as he was told. The salve was cold and, in some places, it stung, but it was the movement of her hand as it slid across his chest that kept Jarod's attention. Her touch was the way he remembered it, tender and strong, all at once. The only thing that surprised him was that she was trembling.

His dark eyes slid to her face, searching for an explanation to her anxiousness but the woman refused to meet his gaze. After a moment of silent urging, he looked away and, for the first time, noticed the pendant around her neck. Without thinking about it, Jarod reached out and gently fingered the gold colored cherub. When he realized her movements had come to a halt and that she was studying his face intently, Jarod let his hand drop to his lap. His eyes, however, remained on the necklace.

"Aaron insists I wear it every day," she explained softly. "He says angels are good luck."

"I think they can be. They turn up when you least expect them," he replied. Then, looking up at her, he asked, "Is he all right?"

She hesitated, then continued massaging the ointment into the cuts that traveled the length of his chest, above his heart. "Yes. He's waiting with . . . a friend."

"Is he happy?"

"I think so," she smiled, not looking up from his chest. "He calls me Momma, now."

"How do you feel about that?"

"He said he wanted to be like the other kids and asked if he could pretend I was his mother," she said. Then, glancing at Jarod, added, "I couldn't say no."

Jarod was quiet a moment as her words penetrated his mind. She was looking for him to tell her it was okay that her little brother refer to her as 'Momma', and to tell her that allowing the boy to 'pretend' would not have detrimental affects in later years. After all, he knew he was one of the few people in the world who understood why she could not deny the boy a mother. And he was the only one who fully understood the drawbacks to pretending.

"You may not have given birth to him, Parker, but you brought him into the world and you have always been fierce in your love and protectiveness for him. You are his family. How he refers to you is unimportant."

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"But you shouldn't be here. You should be with him." Jarod's voice was suddenly so quiet that Miss Parker had to lean closer to make out his words. When she did, she noticed the tears beginning to well in his eyes. "After everything you did to get him away from the Centre, you should never have left him. Losing you, losing the security you represent, would destroy him."

"He's not going to lose me."

"Don't leave him again. Don't give them an opportunity to take him away from you." Unaware that his soft words of warning were deteriorating into moist pleas, or that he was alarming the woman beside him, Jarod continued, "He deserves a better life than we had. He deserves . . ."

"Relax." Sliding her hand to his face, she brought the man's glistening eyes to hers, startling him into silence. "I promise that Aaron will never know anything but freedom, Jarod. I will kill anyone who tries to take him away."

When she released him, he sighed heavily and wiped his face with trembling hands. Then, leaning forward so that his elbows were on his knees, he replied softly, "You'd have to get in line."

Resting his forehead on the heel of his palms, he felt her hand on his and arm and squeezed his eyes tighter. He had not made a conscious association of Aaron's life and his own until he heard himself give her permission to be the boy's mother. Suddenly, the idea that the child could be ripped away from her and forever trapped in a sub-level of the Centre seemed a distinct possibility - and it sparked more emotion than Jarod could process.

Her hand slipped over his shoulder to his back and softly traced the long crevices that sliced across his body, marks of the serrated belt Lyle had been so fond of using. The touch was so gentle, and so unlike anything he'd felt since the night he was taken from her home, Jarod recoiled. But, instead of allowing him to pull away, Miss Parker slid both her hands into his and brought Jarod to his feet.

"I meant it when I said I was willing to do anything necessary to save the boy."

Moving backward, she drew him closer to the bed then lowered him to the mattress. "I know."

He did not resist when she slid his legs under the blankets, or when she gently coaxed him against the pillows. When she sat beside him, with her hand still wrapped in his, he whispered, "Lyle and Raines want him back. They . . ."

"I know," she repeated, stroking his hair as he stared up at her, "but it's all right. I promise, Jarod, tonight, Aaron is safe. Everyone is safe."

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He woke with a start, and a vague image of Raines' face, to find she was sitting beside him, holding his hand. Before he could find the words to question her presence, she stroked his hair and murmured for him to go back to sleep. Her voice was so soft, so reassuring, he complied immediately.

The second time he woke, his heart was pounding in his chest and she was gripping his shoulders tightly, tears running down her cheeks. The nightmare faded quickly, leaving only a hint of the terror that had woken him. In his confusion, he asked her where he was and she had replied he was safe. He nodded tiredly and drifted into another restless sleep until he heard his own voice crying out and found himself sitting straight up with her arms around him.

"What time is it?" he asked, shakily pulling away.

"Four thirty," she replied, handing him a glass of water.

"Have you been here all night?"

She shrugged and tapped the bottom of the glass, indicating he should take a sip. "I didn't have anything better to do. Besides, when you're not having nightmares, you're kind of cute when you sleep."

He returned her half grin, then slid the glass on the night stand. "Well, I hate to ruin your fun, but the sleeping portion of tonight's entertainment is over."

Miss Parker backed away from the bed as Jarod slid his legs over the edge of the mattress and pushed himself to his feet. Instead of heading toward the bathroom, as she expected, he crossed to the door that led to the rest of the house. She followed him.

"I just need some fresh air." Glancing over his shoulder as he stepped onto the porch, he smiled at her and continued to the wooden railing. "I don't need a baby-sitter, Parker. I'll be fine out here, by myself."

She watched him, silently, as he leaned against the railing and stared into the darkness. The breeze was cool, and the soft rhythm of the rustling trees that lined the property was so hypnotic that Miss Parker moved to the porch swing. Pulling her knees to her chest, she curled up on the corner cushion and stared into the darkness.

"What are your nightmares about?" she asked, after a few minutes.

His head dipped and she saw his back tense, but before she could apologize for the question, he took a deep breath and replied, "It varies. Sometimes they're about the Centre, itself, or about a sim. Sometimes, they're about people I've met. Sometimes they make no sense, they're just disconnected images that spark a fear in me."

"And, sometimes, they're about things that have been done to you."

Jarod was silent a moment then nodded. "Yes."

"I'm sorry."

He looked up, his dark eyes barely visible in the dim light. "Why? You didn't cause them."

"I'm the reason you were sent back. Of course I'm to blame," she said, rising from the swing.

His brows furrowed and he started toward her, but Miss Parker avoided his touch. Part of her was screaming to let it go, to leave well enough alone. For whatever reason, Jarod didn't consciously blame her for what happened. But, a larger part was gnawing at her, forcing her to make him face the truth of that night five months ago.

"What's wrong? Did I do something, or say something that upset you, Parker?"

"You called out for me. You kept asking me the same thing you asked that night. You kept asking me why I . . ."

"Parker, it was just a dream."

"You have no idea how badly I wish that was true, Jarod."

He frowned as he stared at her in the dark.

"I thought I would have an answer for you," she whispered. "I thought I knew why I did it, and that my reasons were sound but the longer you were missing, the more I wondered if there might have been another way."

"What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was suddenly deeper than it had been all night. When she faced him, she saw confusion in his eyes and tension in his face.

"When I came upstairs with the drinks, you were still in the shower and the pills were on the night stand. I was exhausted, Jarod, I wasn't thinking clearly. If you had come out of the bathroom thirty seconds earlier, things would have been much different."

She saw his muscles twitch but, rather than the snide comment she expected, Jarod spoke in a calm, patient voice, "Parker, you don't have to explain any of this. It's over."

"No." Shaking her head at the tenderness in his voice, she said, "It's not over, Jarod. Not yet. Not until you understand."

"Well, then we may be here awhile because you are not making sense."

Ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood, she continued with her explanation, "My mind was still on our conversation about Aaron. All I could think about was that I needed to get him away from Lyle and Raines. I thought you were the only way I could make that happen. Aaron was the only person I wanted to keep safe."

His face suddenly lost all expression and, when his dark eyes searched her face, her breath caught in her throat. She saw forgiveness. She saw confusion. He still didn't understand.

"After I made the phone call to Lyle, I started to come to my senses but it was too late to turn back the clock."

"_You_ called _Lyle_?" he gasped.

She barely heard his words, but she saw his hesitation and forced herself to hold his gaze. Her confession was starting to make sense to him. His need to forgive was disappearing as quickly as his confusion was becoming frustration. All she could hope for was that, when it was over, the forgiveness would return.

"I made a mistake. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought that you would escape, or that I would find you before . . ."

"Before what? Before they did this to me?" he dared. Stretching out his arms, Jarod ripped off the bandages that covered the cuts on his wrists, the burn marks on his shoulder and neck, the needle punctures in the crook of his elbow. "I hate to break it to you, but your timing was off."

"I never meant . . . "

"I honestly don't care what you meant," he growled. Then, as a memory flashed, Jarod's eyes widened accusingly. "You put a gun in my mouth. You said I _owed_ you and threatened to kill me."

"Jarod, I would never have pulled the trigger. You know that," she insisted. When he shook his head and looked away, she added, "Lyle was already suspicious. I needed to convince him that you and I weren't working together. If I had wavered, shown any bit of hesitation about hurting you, he would have eaten us both alive and Aaron would have been trapped forever. Using the gun on you was the only way I could get the job done."

"Why are you telling me this, Parker? What do you want from me?"

"I want you to know the truth, to understand how and why everything happened. You need to know that I looked for you. I searched the Centre and . . ."

"Meanwhile, I was trapped inside a black hole beneath Raines' house. Do you know why they wanted me isolated? They thought they could force me to run simulations on you and the boy. They thought they could force me to tell them where you would go, what you would do with the DSA's. When I refused, they beat me, drugged me, or left me alone, bound and blindfolded. Then, of course, there were the days they tried to persuade me with combinations of all three. Does that bit of truth make you feel any better?"

She shook her head, dumbly, staring at him as he began pacing the length of the porch. He never raised his voice, never took on a threatening tone but, for the first time in her life, she was frightened of him.

"I was such a fool. Even after Lyle gave me your message about having your happily ever after, I told myself fairytales to explain away your actions," he laughed cruelly. "I had all kinds of scenarios worked out: Lyle surprised you while I was upstairs and you had no chance to warn me. Jimmy was actually an employee of the Centre and gave me up. Someone followed me from Raines' house and . . . ."

"Jarod . . ."

"Don't." He lifted his hand, palm side out, and shook his head. "I don't know what you're going to say but I do know I don't want to hear it, Parker. Not now."

"You have to understand . . ."

"But, I do understand. I understand more than you realize. Your intentions were good, Parker. I could never fault you for protecting Aaron, nor would I do anything to put him in harm's way," he insisted. "But, instead of working with me, instead of letting me help you, you made a conscious decision to betray me. You are no better than the rest of your family, Parker. You **_used_** me."

She stared at him, her mind reeling as she tried to pinpoint the moment in the conversation where her confession and apology had become a weapon of destruction. "No. I . . ."

"You used me," he repeated.

She saw his barriers rise. She saw his eyes flash and, a split second before he turned his back on her, she saw all his emotions fade.

"What do you want from me, Parker?" he asked when she slid her hand to his arm and stepped in front of him. Whether it was frustration, lack of sleep, or genuine hurt that made his eyes fill with tears, she didn't know but, when he spoke, she heard desperation, "Do you want me to say I forgive you? Fine. I forgive you. I understand why you sold me out and I forgive you. Now, please, just leave me alone."

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It seemed like she'd waited hours but, in actuality, the car pulled into the driveway only forty-five minutes after she'd left Jarod on the porch. Returning to her spot at the window, she pushed back the sheers and watched the newcomer park behind the van. When he climbed the steps and crouched beside Jarod, she slid her bag over her shoulder and stepped outside.

"He's all yours."

Though she tried to avoid the touch, the older man reached out and grabbed her arm. "What happened here last night?"

"The truth.". Then, pulling herself from his grip, she started down the stairs, knowing he would follow. "When he's ready to hear it, tell him I'm sorry."

"Miss Parker, wait."

"I can't, Syd," she answered, pulling at the car door. Turning toward the man, she glanced over his shoulder as the Pretender disappeared into the house. "Jarod needs you and I've been away from Aaron too long."

Then, sliding into the car, Miss Parker backed out of the driveway, leaving the confused psychiatrist standing at the edge.

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He found Jarod in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back to the door. His shoulders were slumped and, as Sydney watched, the Pretender leaned forward to rest his head on his fisted hands.

"Jarod, what happened here last night?"

"Nothing I want to discuss."

"Very well," he sighed. Then, without another word, the psychiatrist slipped from the room.

When he was alone, Jarod pulled back and opened his right hand. He turned the angel pendant over in his hand until his eyes could no longer focus on the delicate features. Then, taking a deep but shuddered breath, the Pretender dropped the necklace into the drawer of the night table and rose from the bed.

From that point on, Jarod became trapped in his own thoughts. Her voice, repeating that he owed her and would pay, woke him when he tried to sleep. When he was alone, she whispered that she had called Lyle. And, even during the most mundane of conversations with Sydney, Miss Parker managed to interrupt him with promises that she wouldn't have pulled the trigger.

The more he tried to make sense of the memories, to understand how she could have used him in such a way, the more confused and frustrated he became. The more he tried to ignore the pendant in the drawer, the more often he needed to hold it in his hand.

"Talk to me, Jarod. It has been three days since Miss Parker left and you are still obviously troubled by her departure. Tell me what happened."

The Pretender looked up from the porch swing. "I don't understand how she could do it, Sydney. How could she hand me over to Lyle without a second thought? I thought we were getting closer. I thought she was beginning to trust me."

Sighing softly, Sydney lowered himself to the seat across from his protégé. "What did she tell you?"

Jarod averted his eyes and stared at the darkening sky over the older man's left shoulder. "That I was wrong."

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**_Six weeks later . . . _**

He watched them from the ridge as they ran along the rocky shore of the lake. The boy giggled when he was caught but soon squirmed from the woman's grasp and led her in a race down the beach.

In spite of himself, the man smiled.

She lifted the boy over her shoulder, lightly patting his buttocks as she carried him back to their starting point. When the light breeze carried her hair in front of her face, she pushed it away and tucked it behind her right ear.

Absently, the man slid his hand through his own hair and sighed.

Letting the boy drop to his feet, she began running up the stairs that led to the road. Her young playmate kept pace for a half dozen steps, then, suddenly took the lead as she slowed her gait. The grin on the boy was wide as he reached the top, punching the air dramatically as he faced the brunette.

"I win!"

"You're getting too fast for me," she panted, feigning exhaustion.

"Come on." The boy ran to her side, grabbed her hand and pulled the woman toward the road. "I want to tell Ben that I won."

He waited until they vanished around the corner before stepping from his hiding place. From where he stood, he could see the gables of the Inn he knew was their destination. Instead of following them, the man readjusted his sunglasses, turned and moved in the opposite direction.

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It was twilight when he made his way back to the Inn. Hearing soft music and laughter emanating from the back, he circled the property and stood at the edge of the driveway. A small table sat in the center of the patio and, behind it, a portable CD player sat on the ledge of a window box.

She was facing him, though her eyes were trained on the boy to her right. To her left, Ben was quietly sipping his coffee, listening to the conversation of the other two with obvious pleasure. As the sudden sound of her laughter floated toward him, he felt his determination waver but kept his gaze on the woman until the weight of his stare made her look up.

If she was surprised to find him there, she didn't show it, nor did she give any indication of whether she was happy about seeing him. Instead, she looked down at the boy. A moment later, Aaron and Ben disappeared into the house and she was standing in front of him.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he murmured.

"Of course you did."

He glanced at the patio and the candles that lit the center of the table. "What is the occasion?"

"We're leaving. Tonight is our last night at the Inn and Ben wanted to have a farewell party." As she spoke, she walked toward the front of the building and, obediently, he followed. "How did you find us?"

"I will always be able to find you, Miss Parker." Then, in a thicker voice, he said, "I thought you were happy here."

There was no question but she nodded in agreement. "Very."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"You know why, Jarod. Aaron and I are like you, now. We have to keep on the move."

He glanced at the house as Ben pulled the little boy from a window on the second floor. The sheers fell into place quickly but, even from where he stood, Jarod could see the child was intent on watching what was happening outside.

"I understand that Raines' house in the woods caught fire two weeks ago," he told her.

"Is that so?"

"The Fire Department suspects arson. It seems that there were several canisters of oxygen being stored in the garage. When they exploded, the house and its foundation were demolished."

"What a shame," she said absently. "I'll have to send him a card. Maybe Hallmark has one that is appropriate. Do they make a 'Sorry your den of torture has been torched' card?"

Jarod frowned, not at the comment but at the fact she refused to look at him. "According to Sydney, Raines is claiming you set the fire and that you threatened him."

"Dr. Billy must be confused."

"Funny, that is one word I would never use to describe him." Taking her hand, Jarod stopped walking and turned the woman to face him. "I would, however, use the word dangerous. If you are leaving here because of Raines, tell me. I can . . .."

"One thing has nothing to do with the other, Jarod. It's just time to move on."

"Parker . . ."

She stepped away and folded her arms across her chest. "Why don't you just tell me why you are here, Jarod?"

He looked into her eyes for a long moment then turned and crossed the road as if he had not heard the question. When he reached the steps leading to the beach, he took them slowly, his hands lightly brushing the rail on either side as he moved. Miss Parker watched from in front of the house, finally deciding to follow him when his shadow was no longer visible. When she stepped onto the sand, she crossed to where he was waiting with his hands buried in pockets of his leather duster. His eyes trained on something on the far side of the man-made lake.

"Sydney told me you searched for me," he said, when she was beside him.

"**_I_** told you I searched for you."

He shot a quick grin in her direction. "If I had been listening, I suppose I would have heard you."

His grin began fading the moment her eyes met his. The glance was brief but it was hard and, by the time she looked away, neither his eyes nor his mouth held any trace of humor. Jarod shifted his weight from one foot to the other and took a deep breath. This was not how he had imagined the start of this conversation.

"I never meant to use you."

"I know and I was wrong to say you had," he replied somberly. "It took me days to make sense of everything you told me and, when I did, I realized you did the only thing you could."

She looked at him. "Do you believe that?"

"Yes." Jarod slid his hand under her chin and stared into her eyes. "You did good, Parker. You saved your little brother and, in the process, managed to save me, too."

"Not exactly," she replied. Pulling from his touch, she looked out at the dark horizon. "I never meant for you to be locked up for so long. We didn't find the trap door at Raines' house until our third search. If . . ."

"You didn't find it, because it wasn't there," he interjected. "The cell in Raines' basement didn't exist when they took me."

Her eyes darted from the water to his face, waiting for the explanation she knew would be forthcoming. Somehow, knowing he had her attention made him relax.

"The Fire Marshall's report included the original architectural design of the house. There was no cell, nor was there any documentation of work permits to add one. The only explanation is that Raines paid someone under the table to make the changes, after he and Lyle . . . took possession of me."

Though he had not meant the words to sound accusatory, when Miss Parker dropped her eyes, Jarod felt his gut clench.

"Lyle and Raines needed to keep me isolated and disoriented until they could move me into my new prison. In the beginning, they used drugs, but they knew it was a short term solution. If they had any hope of me doing the simulations, they needed me to have control of my mind."

When her eyes snapped up to his, in alarm, he shook his head. "I didn't do them, Parker. I would never run a simulation on you - for any reason."

Her blue eyes danced across his face for only a moment before she turned and moved back to the shore. "So, where were you?"

"Broots mentioned that Lyle and Raines took several trips to Dover, so I had him do some digging. It turns out Lyle owns an old pharmaceutical warehouse on the outskirts of town. Sydney and I drove out there last week and there is no doubt that it is where I was kept for the first two months."

She wondered what was at the warehouse, but the lost expression on his face stopped her from asking. Piecing together what had been done to him, and confronting the evidence they'd found had obviously not been easy. The last thing she wanted was to make things more difficult.

"So, you were in Dover. It would have been nice if Broots had thought to run a title search six months ago, when you first went missing," she groused.

"Don't blame him. It probably would not have changed anything. By the time you compiled the information, they would have had me moved to the house in the woods."

"I'm beginning to believe that finding you was nothing more than dumb luck."

"Luck, dumb or otherwise, had nothing to do with it." he corrected, sternly. "The reason you found me was because you wanted to, Miss Parker. You are the most determined, resourceful and stubborn person I have ever known and I am very grateful to you."

When she didn't comment, he lightened his tone and said, "However, you are starting to show the signs of forgetfulness. I found this in my room at the bungalow."

Though she didn't need to, she looked at the trinket in his hand before moving further down the beach and turning her face into the wind. "We both know I didn't forget it, Jarod. I was returning it to its rightful owner."

"I gave this to you months ago; that makes you the rightful owner." Jarod stepped behind her and, with his eyes on the gold cherub, hesitantly added, "Considering the things I said to you the last time we were together, I will understand if you tell me to take it away, but, I really want you to have the necklace, Parker. Please."

Telling herself that arguing was not worth the effort, she nodded her acceptance of the gift and stood perfectly still as Jarod hung the pendant around her neck. His hands were warm, a direct contrast to the breeze blowing in from the lake. When he began a light massage of her shoulders and arms, though, she forgot about the chill in the air. The points where his skin touched hers suddenly became the only points on her body with any feeling.

"So, does this make us friends again?" she asked hoarsely, when his arms slipped around her waist.

"We were never _not_ friends, Parker. It would be against the laws of nature."

His touch felt good and when he drew her back, against his chest, she closed her eyes and tried to memorize the feeling of his embrace. But, when his stubbled cheek brushed against her face, the image of Jarod sitting beside her at the cove, holding her intimately as the sun rose from the ocean surfaced, followed, instantly, by the memory of how he had distanced himself later. When he leaned forward, his breath pulsated against her neck, she felt her entire body tense and, before he realized what was happening Miss Parker bolted forward, splashing them both with cold lake water.

"Parker, what are you doing? The water is freezing."

"And, yet, at this moment I would rather be out here than standing in your arms," she hissed, spinning to face him.

"Why? What did I do?"

Now knee deep in the water, with her skirt floating around her, she glared at him. "What did you do? You turned my life upside down. Every time I see you, you turn my life upside down. Why did you have to come looking for me, Jarod? Why couldn't you have gone on your merry way and left me alone?"

He stared at her, his alarm turning to confusion. "Is that what you want? You want us to be apart?"

Churning the water into white foam as she trudged through it, she stepped onto the shore and glared at him. "It's worked for us this long."

"Actually, it hasn't." Grabbing the woman by the shoulders, he turned her to face him. "Why do you keep running away from me? I would never hurt you."

"I'm not the one who runs, Jarod. Remember? I chase." Wrenching from his hold, she began to slowly back away, toward the cement stairs. "When my father died, I needed you. I needed you more than I have ever needed any man in my life and you were there for me. You kept me from falling apart."

"Why do you make that sound like a bad thing?"

"Because I wanted more than your support, Jarod. I wanted you. I wanted you and you turned me down. No matter what I did . . ."

Embarrassment crept into her cheeks as she heard the words echoing in her ears. Tears she'd been unaware of were suddenly blurring her vision and following the lines of her jaw. Unable to continue her confession, Miss Parker wiped her face, spun on her heel and quickly started up the steps to the road.

"No!" he yelled, racing toward her. "You are not going to run away again."

Circling his arm around her waist, he pulled the woman back to the beach. The more she struggled, the closer he held her, pinning her arms at her side. Finally, the woman went limp and, suddenly, there were no other sounds but her soft sobs of frustration and his heavy breaths of exertion.

With his arms still wrapped around her, holding her face to his chest, Jarod dropped to his knees. He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered hoarsely, "Parker, I promise you, turning you down was the single most difficult thing I have ever done. But, I had no choice. Giving in to you, allowing us a few beautiful hours of pleasure, would have done nothing but create another nightmare."

The words elicited a strangled cry from the brunette. Pushing at him and desperately looking for traction in the sand, she writhed and bucked to be free but, despite the abuse he'd suffered, Jarod was still stronger.

"No! Listen to me," he pleaded. "When we were done, when every ounce of energy and passion was sated and we had a taste of something we could never have again, nothing would have changed. **_That _**would have been a nightmare. Eventually, I would have had to leave you, Parker. I can do many things but I could never make love to you one night and abandon you the next. So, as hard as it was for me to stay and not touch you, making love and then walk out on you would have been unbearable."

As he spoke, the tension in her body began to melt and, in response, Jarod loosened his grip. By the time he was finished, she had turned in his arms and watching him intently.

For the first time since they were children, the idea that he might be making a fool of her never entered her mind. Mesmerized by the myriad of emotions etched on his face, she slid her hand up his arm. His breaths were rapid but she didn't stop to consider the reason. She followed the dark, glazed eyes as they darted across her face, anxiously searching for a clue to her thoughts so that he could counter them, if necessary. Yet, when her hand slid from his arm to his cheek, and she brought her lips to his, his reaction - or, rather, lack of one - betrayed the fact that he was surprised by the move. The Pretender recovered quickly, however, and, by the time they separated, Jarod and Miss Parker were breathless.

"I'm sorry."

The words came so soon after the kiss that Jarod was not sure he could comprehend their meaning. He laughed and tilted her head back so he could look into her eyes. "I knew you were a perfectionist but . . ."

"No," she growled, pulling away from him. She brought her knees to her chest and wiped her eyes. "I'm not talking about the kiss. I'm talking about the way things turned out for us."

"From where I'm sitting, I think things are beautiful," he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. When she shot him an annoyed look, he smiled. "Don't you see, Parker? Our circumstances have changed. The game of you-run-I-chase is over."

She sighed and nodded, turning her gaze back on the water. "You're right. Now it's you-run-I-run."

"And we are free to go in the same direction. Together."

Her eyes shot back to his and she shook her head. "Jarod, I have a five-year-old boy with me, now. You can't come with us. You would be risking your freedom, as well as ours."

"I would never risk your freedom, or Aaron's," he said, seriously.

"Not intentionally," she agreed in an equally stern tone, "but the fact remains that it is much more difficult for three people to disappear, or to dodge Sweepers in a chase, than it would be for one."

"My parents were on the run with Emily, for years."

"We are not your parents."

"No, we're not," he said, pulling her to her feet. "But we have them, Ethan, Emily and Jake for support. There is strength in numbers, Parker. You and I know more about the Centre and its machinations than my parents ever hoped to know. Ideally, with their help, we could close it down, forever."

"You're dreaming."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But, it's a nice dream and, since I don't have them very often, I tend to try to make them come true. I can't promise it will be easy but I know we can make this work for us, Parker."

Stunned by his sincerity, Miss Parker could not find the words to respond. If she said yes - and she wanted to say yes - she and Jarod would be together. Aaron would have a role model who was strong, warm, and generous - all the things the men in her family were not. They would become a family. They would have an extended family that included the Jarod's parents, sister and clone, as well as the brother they shared.

How the hell would she explain the relationships to Aaron? What if Jarod's family refused to accept her, or Aaron? What if . . .

If she said no, she would not have to worry about Jarod's family, or their feelings toward her. However, she and Aaron would be on their own. She had no doubt that Ethan would be in their lives, but she could not say how often. If something happened to her, there would be no one to care for Aaron. He would be alone and vulnerable.

"You're shivering," he reprimanded, lightly, as he slid off his long coat. "That water must have been freezing."

"You've never even met Aaron." Even to her ears, the protest sounded weak and she wondered why she verbalized it.

"Children like me," he grinned, "almost as much as I like them. But, if it would make you happy, you can introduce me to him tonight."

Then, in one, smooth and impulsive movement, Jarod draped his coat over Miss Parker's shoulders and brought his mouth to hers. Though her instinct was to pull away, the feel of Jarod's hands as they rested lightly against her hips was enough to hold Miss Parker in place until the urge passed.

When they finally separated, it was slow and hesitant but, after shooting her a quick smile, Jarod abruptly slid his hands beneath her knees and lifted the woman into his arms. She let out a cry of surprise and, instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck as Jarod laughed and cradled against his chest.

"Jarod, what are you doing?"

"You're wet and you're cold," he replied. "I'm carrying you back to the Inn."

"I can walk."

"Yes, but this is much more fun," he smiled.

Secure in his arms, she slid her hand to his face and began gently stroking his stubbled cheek. Almost immediately, Jarod's mischievous smile melted into tender adoration. He leaned into the touch, kissing her open palm while his eyes held hers. He enjoyed the sensation of having her so close - physically as well as emotionally. It was a feeling he was willing to fight to keep alive for the rest of their lives.

"Please, let me give you your happily ever after," he whispered.

She kissed him tenderly on the lips. "You already have."

THE END (really, I mean it this time!)

Feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)


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